


Misadventures Through a Spyglass

by zombified419



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: A hat of epic proportions, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Cool Stuff Found Only In Caves, Don't get attached to anyone, Drinking, FrostIron - Freeform, General Stereotypical Pirate Activities, Graphic Violence, Hatred, Horrific deeds, It's Bigger On The Inside, Kidnapping, M/M, Pirate Captain Loki, Pirates, Slow Build, Stealing, Vampyre lore, Voodoo, Young Tony Stark, lying, pirate slang, privateers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified419/pseuds/zombified419
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Stark, a young inventor hailing from Italy with a pardon from King George himself to show his most recent invention, seeks passage aboard a famed privateer ship. The ship is overran by pirates before reaching London and Anthony is intentionally seized. He must protect himself at all costs, but will it matter when the pirate captain begins to take a dark interest in him? [FrostIron]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quick Way To Kill A Voyage

* * *

To ride the seas to all corners of the map had always been an aspiration - to see all curves of water and cliff, to marvel at the surprising wildlife of a world so new, to see the culture of fascinating people Anthony Stark had only heard of from his father. Now, he had his chance. 

The easiest way to get to London from Italy was by ship, and because of Anthony's name and pardon he was able to acquire free passage aboard _HMS Cavalier,_ a beautiful brig painted canary in its prime that had since faded to pale yellow due to a combination of the sun's unrelenting gaze and salt water. Still, the dark red it was trimmed in and the bright Union Jack had not seen the touch of time, and the Captain proudly professed to Anthony that upon reaching Britain's shores, he would see to it to bestow her to her former glory. 

Due to his name and pardon, Anthony was allowed a private room for himself, a floor up from where the crew slept and gambled, placing him nearest the galley. The chef, a bulky man not at all unlike a pig in countenance but the second kindest man Anthony had met since his voyage began, always managed to slip him an extra portion of bread. He even scraped off the disgusting film that accumulated over the nightly stew before serving him. 

"These old sea dogs, 'ey don't care so long as their bellies an' grogs be full." Anthony would laugh, quickly picking up on the speech men at sea used. When night would fall and the watch would change, Anthony would speak to the chef about his life. The chef, Bill, was gruff but eager to hear him speak, his beady black eyes widening in wonder as Anthony shared his tales. 

Anthony told him of his father, the owner of a Caribbean sugar cane plantation that put his entire family at the top of aristocracy in Rome. Anthony had inherited the plantation after his death but never traveled there; he confessed the ideal of pressing unwilling parties into slavery sickened him. 

Bill smiled. "That's wot makes ye a good man, young An'tony." Anthony, despite his eighteen years, grinned back and felt his cheeks heat. 

"Why Bill, we have only just met!" He said, his Italian accent light; all those British women his mother had hired to care for him saw to it that he sounded as regal as possible. The chef tossed back his fat head and laughed, the sound rich and jiggling his round belly. 

"Aye! An' I be grateful." 

Anthony enjoyed his nightly talks with Bill, something he very much looked forward to as the journey seemed to lengthen. During the day, he found himself on the deck, watching the men control the sails as the strong gusts they fought against tousled Anthony's hair and tunic. Any spare moment they had, Anthony would immediately begin to question them. 

Jack Russ, the first mate and quartermaster, didn't seem to mind his scrutiny. In fact, he had taken quite a shine to the young traveler. "Master Stark!" 

Anthony paused, looking up from where he had been watching a man retie a loose knot holding the main sail. He waved him over, and after a brief grin and nod to the working man, Anthony bounded up the stairs to where Jack stood tall behind the wheel. 

"You have interest in the workings of a ship?" He asked, his voice raised just to be heard over a sudden rush of wind. 

"Aye!" Anthony answered, making Jack grin. He was a handsome man, tanned from his years on the sea with sun bleached hair pulled back into a tight knot at the base of his neck. Anthony quietly admired him, knowing that his sister would find this man dashing (that of which they would agree). Jack also was amongst the youngest of the crew, having spent a vast majority of his adolescence amongst shipyards and crewmen before joining the Navy. Were Anthony to guess, he might suggest Jack to be closer to his age than his sister's. 

"Well, perhaps you'd enjoy a tutorial?" He offered, his voice light and teasing. When Anthony had received pardon and passage from His Royal Majesty aboard one of his ships, he immediately set out to the docks nearest Rome. There he found Jack Russ, sitting with several of his crew in a complete British redcoat. Anthony rambled on and on about his plans, nearly driving the poor sailor mad, before shakily handing out his pardon and watching the first smile he had seen on Jack's face bloom. 

Since their first meeting, Jack knew of Anthony's insatiable curiosity, knowing first hand the nature of this trip and the young man's true profession. An inventor through-and-through. 

"I assume no less," the quartermaster said, winking at Anthony. Anthony hoped his grin would be wide enough to hide his blush. 

Jack proceeded to explain the rulings of the ship to him; first he explained her size, a brig, was a decent middle in the British Navy. They carried the optimal weight of cargo and crew as not to be weighed down too much to still have decent speed. He explained cannon placement and swivel guns and chain shot; this Anthony found the most interesting. 

"Why should we carry such weaponry, Mr. Russ?" He asked. Jack smiled as he slid a large hand across the wheel. Anthony watched in fascination as the crew moved, feeling the shift of the ship, and falling into place to turn the sails and capture the optimal wind. 

"Dear Anthony," Jack began, his tone still light even as the ship turned and pitched with the large wave he had been turning them into. "For every Good there is Evil. In this case, _HMS Cavalier_ is the Good, depending on who is being questioned." 

Anthony furrowed his brow. "I do not understand." 

Jack waved his hand, signaling a crew member some feet behind them to come up. The man took the wheel and Jack stepped down from his station to wrap an arm around Anthony's shoulders. Jack's high cheekbones were parallel to Anthony's forehead, making the shorter feel oddly protected. He guided them to the railing of the ship, dropping his embrace to lean both elbows across the rails. Anthony remained standing. 

"Young master," Jack began, turning fully towards Anthony while still keeping a hand on the rail. "Have you noticed anything... _peculiar_ about my men?" 

Anthony had. One of the most glaring factors was the state of dress. Nearly every man on the ship, including Bill the chef, dressed in no shoes or uniform of any kind - only Jack and the Captain stood in the trimming of the Royal Navy. Anthony, not wanting to over step, never asked. 

"Only you and the Captain dress like you've any sense," he answered; his bluntness drew a loud bark of laughter from Jack. 

"Quite astute of you," Jack said, looking out across the sea again. "I would expect no less from a blossoming inventor. What else?" 

Anthony ignored the faint flip his belly gave at the praise. "They carry a small armoury at all times." 

Jack nodded, dropping his palm to Anthony's shoulder. "Aye, Anthony. These men sail under a pardon by the King himself, offered by the Captain and I. We are privateers, hunters of pirates. This firepower is required to take those scoundrels down." 

Anthony was suddenly very, very grateful that his sister was sailing after him. "Should I have chosen another ship?" 

"Mayhaps," Jack answered, squeezing his shoulder and giving him a toothy grin. Despite being at sea, Jack took very good care of himself. It didn't take a genius like Anthony to understand the dangers of sickness at sea. "But it is too late now, and you came to me. Rest assured, Anthony - " he leaned close, his breath ghosting Anthony's ear and bringing with it the smell of tobacco; " - the _Cavalier_ has never lost a crew member in all our years of sailing. That same courtesy extends to _you."_

Anthony tried to remember that promise now, as he was forced down to his knees with a wide-barreled pistol pressed to the back of his skull. He growled when rough hands pushed his chest to the deck of the ship, his cheek searing in pain from his open wound dragging against splintered wood. Seconds later he was hauled back to his knees by that very same hand burying into his hair. 

"Open yer eyes, git!" Anthony bared his teeth, the action causing more blood to trickle from the gash across his cheek. The barrel of the gun moved from the back of his head to his jaw, the wetness on the piece causing his eyes to open in surprise. _Blood._

All across the once beautiful deck of the _Cavalier_ were bodies. Anthony recognized more than most, even with their mangled limbs twisted at odd angles. Several still had their eyes open, vacant looks of surprise stretched across visages too pained for Anthony to look away. One he recognized immediately - Bill, the kind chef, had gone down after two saber stabs tore his stomach open and spilled all of its contents across the slick deck. His eyes stared back at Anthony, and all he could do was pray to the god Bill believed in that he would see his wife again. Her death prompted him to sail aboard the _Cavalier_ ten years ago, back when Anthony was dealing with the death of his own parents. Anthony screwed his eyes shut to fight back the tears he felt blooming - Bill had taken those stabs for _him._ To protect _him._

Not even a day after Anthony's talk with Jack, the man in the crow's nest spotted a ship heading directly for them. Anthony, feeling like a damn king himself, had begged Jack to allow him to take the wheel for only a moment, a minute at longest. Jack, for whatever reason had agreed, now standing a foot of so behind Anthony as the shorter of the pair held the heart of the _Cavalier_ with surprising finesse. 

Jack didn't seem to have much care for personal space having shared a ship with nearly seventy men since he was Anthony's age; he kept his hands over Anthony's own, directing him to feel the shifts in the ocean and training him to balance effectively. Anthony was glad for his darkening skin from the weeks at sea - when Jack dropped his hat onto his head and wrapped calloused fingers around his own, he thought for sure his face put out enough heat to rival the sun. 

Jack muttered tips and direction into his ear, the grin on the older man's face very evident in his tone. His breath along Anthony's cheek was distracting, but he kept his eyes focused on the curved bow of the ship and the warmth of Jack's hands. 

When the call from above happened, Anthony yelped with surprise as Jack's strong arms wrapped around his middle and pulled him away from the wheel; his back hit Jack's chest and then he was passed off, the feeling too fleet to enjoy. 

"Jack? What's - ?" Before the question could leave his mouth, loud cracks like thunder could be heard coming from starboard. Jack looked pass Anthony, over his shoulder, his eyes widening. 

_"BRACE!"_ He bellowed; the crew member Anthony had been passed to pushed him onto the deck, taking the wind from his lungs. The man climbed over his frame, covering his head and Jack's hat with his arms. 

It seemed like the entire world slowed as the first cannon hit - the _Cavalier_ lurched to the left; Jack kept his hands on the wheel as he crouched, now turning hard to the right to keep her from toppling over. Anthony, pressed to the deck, could feel shudders through the entire ship from the hit. 

"Jack we've been hit!" He called, scrambling from under his human shield closer to the quartermaster. Jack stared beyond him again when Anthony kneeled beside him. "What by?" 

Anthony felt dread pool in his gut at the hard look on Jack's face. "Pirates." 

A quick gulp and glance over his shoulder showed Anthony what he had been dreading. A large ship, the same size as the _Cavalier,_ drew closer and closer by the second. It was a deep chestnut colour trimmed in emerald; had Anthony not been terrified, he could have appreciated the palette. What was worse still was the large black flag whipping in the wind atop the main mast. The closer it came, the clearer Anthony could see it; black with a large white skull, edges torn and tattered. 

_Pirates._

"Get Master Stark to the Captain!" Jack bellowed, hauling Anthony to his feet. The man that had shielded him before came back to his side, wrapping a hand around his bicep. "Grab Bill as well; we must protect him at all cost. Connors, head to the armoury - " 

Anthony struggled against the man pulling him along, fighting to get back to Jack. A well placed elbow and an apology freed Anthony to sprint back up the stairs. 

Jack was tying two cutlass sheaths around his waist and barking orders when Anthony caught his attention. The anger there startled him, but his characteristic stubbornness prevented him from fleeing. 

" _Anthony,_ get to the Captain's quarters," Jack growled, stepping swiftly towards him. 

"What about you, Jack?" He snapped back. "You can't expect me to stand around and watch you _die, idiota."_

His tone caused Jack to blink, then grin. "Your Italian is showing, Master Stark." 

Anthony fought down his blush. "So? You still can't _expect - "_

"I expect nothing but your safety," Jack said, crossing over to Anthony. He swatted at the large black and white feather sporting from his own hat that Anthony still wore. "I do not intent to lose anyone today, least of all _you."_ He snatched his hat back and dropped it over his blond hair. "Grab a sword along the way - you may need it." 

Anthony hoped that he wouldn't but did as he was told, looking once more back at Jack as he took the wheel again and snapped orders for the cannons to be readied. He didn't have his uniform coat on, but even just the simple white laced tunic and black pants couldn't take away from his regal stature. Anthony just hoped it wouldn't be last time he could see it. 

When the firing of cannons stopped and the entire world outside of the Captain's quarters grew silent, Anthony clutched his borrowed sword tighter. The entire ship shuddered as the sounds of hooks sinking into her wood could be heard - they were being boarded. He shared a glance with the Captain and Bill before all hell broke loose. 

The door was snatched open and the Captain felled immediately by a well-placed gunshot between his eyes, dusting the back of the cabin bright red. Anthony didn't have a chance to mourn - pirates began to charge him, cutlasses raised and voices screeching. Bill launched into action, slashing and dodging with a swiftness that Anthony didn't believe of a man of his size. Screams and shouts from the deck could be heard clearly as the doors remained open; one man slipped by Bill and headed straight for Anthony, his sword held high and his teeth wildly barred. Anthony took a deep breath and drew his sword - all those fencing classes had better pay off. 

It was a hard fight, his first ever against someone trying to kill him. Those odds can change a man, even one as young as he - he fought tooth and nail and managed to land his killing blow, but not before poor judgement left him with a slash across his left cheek, just under his eye. 

Bill's anguished bellow reached his ears just as his opponent collapsed, and he looked up in time to see the man fall. His eyes were screwed shut as the pain seared through him, Anthony the only witness to his brutal demise. The young man stood, traumatized, as one of his dearest friends collapsed to his knees, attempting to keep pieces of himself where they belonged, allowing two more pirates to enter the small fortress they had fastened and bring Anthony to his knees. Now, out on the deck and staring back across at where Bill now laid, he felt the contents of his stomach, the last meal Bill will ever make, attempt to vacate. 

In only a matter of minutes, his entire world was turned upside down. He kneeled before pirates, the remainder of his living friends in a much similar state but far worse for wear. Anthony looked around as far as his eyes would go, looking for Jack - he wasn't amongst the kneeling living, causing another churn of the limited contents of his stomach. 

The pirate holding him hostage tugged at his hair again. "Oi! Dis one is _young."_

"D'ya think he's the one Cap'n is lookin' fer?" Another called from across the way. He held Connors, the man Jack had sent to gather his weapons. If he was alive, fighting beside Jack, then perhaps - 

"Get your fucking hands _off_ of him!" Anthony strained his neck to see Lieutenant Jack Russ being lead down the stairs from above the Captain's quarters. His eyes dropped to Anthony and most likely the bleeding cut under his eye, renewing his cursing. Jack looked far better than the rest - it appeared all the blood over his white tunic wasn't his own, his once proud feathered hat drenched crimson. Anthony couldn't help but be relieved, even though he knew they most likely wouldn't live. 

Jack was pushed to kneel beside Connors, almost directly across from Anthony. "Release him, you scurvy-ridden _knave!"_

"Givin' how much this one is bellowin', I'll bet me own ration o' rum that ye be right, Gibbs!" The man holding Jack answered, causing the entire pirate crew to laugh. Gibbs, the man holding Anthony, pulled his head back further; he could just make out Jack struggling out of his range of view. 

"Aye, you Italian, boy?" 

Anthony drew up as much bravado as he could and spit into the demon's face. The pirates laughed again, the sound disgusting and boisterous, as Gibbs slowly wiped his cheek on his shoulder. "Awright, then." 

Gibbs pushed Anthony back to the deck of the ship again, making him hiss. He could hear Jack and now Connors demanding they let up on him, he's just a boy. The desperation in Jack's voice didn't help Anthony's sinking suspicions that no one was getting out alive. 

Suddenly the entire ship went silent; a single pair of footsteps could be heard, and the foot on Anthony's back relented as he was hauled back to his feet. Every pirate was looking to starboard, where their ship was, as a tall man stepped down onto the _Cavalier._ He wore a long black cloak that billowed around his ankles, hiding the perch of two cutlasses but not shielding the four pistols laced to his chest. He was pale, oddly so for being a pirate, clean shaven with long, straight black hair. His gaze shifted from pirate to privateer alike, cataloging what he saw and the state of each man. His chin rose higher as he came closer to Anthony and the centre of the deck. 

"Where is the captain of this vessel?" He asked, his voice a low murmur amongst the remaining chaos surrounding him. 

"Dead, Cap'n," the man holding Jack called. "Here be the quar'er master." 

The pirate captain hummed, his arms folded behind his back as he took long strides towards Jack. Anthony immediately tensed when he stopped before him, his back to Anthony. His hat was decorated to match his ship - dark feathers and emeralds and golden threads hung from the back, trailing over his own long hair. 

"What is your name, first mate?" He asked. 

Jack didn't answer; the captain sighed, as if put out by the lack of response. "I shall ask kindly just once more - your _name?"_

Jack still didn't answer. The pirate shrugged, and as quick as lightning, drew a pistol from his chest and shot out to his right. One of Jack's crew fell across the deck, surprising a yelp from Anthony; the man convulsed, the shot having hit his neck and exited in a red spray across the other crew member beside him. 

"Lieutenant Jack Russ of His Royal Navy, first mate of _HMS Cavalier,"_ Jack answered, his voice carrying. "Privateer by pardon of the King himself to bring arseholes like yourself to reason." 

The pirates laughed loudly at his announcement, but was silenced by only a hand from their captain. "Jack Russ, you say? I do believe you brought down _Endeavor,_ did you not?" 

"Aye, with every bloody pirate sent to meet Davy Jones by my blade," Jack spat. The captain nodded, unperturbed by Jack's answer. 

"Even facing such _odds_ your fire does not quench," the captain said, his tone verging on mock awe. "Now, I do believe you are holding something that I want. I suggest you share with the crew before each and every one of _yours_ meets Davy Jones as well." 

Jack didn't answer, even when the pirate holding him pressed a gun to the back of his head. Anthony's heart rate increased; he remembered Jack's words, _"Protect Master Stark at all cost!"_ No, he wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth Jack's _life._

The pirate cracked his pistol across Jack's cheek. "Speak, _fool,_ or yer tongue will be loosened by _knife."_

When the second hit came, Anthony couldn't take it anymore. _"Stop!"_

He suddenly had every person's attention on the ship. Even the captain turned, and Anthony could see the bright emerald of his eyes. "Cap'n, I think this here be yer prize, sir." 

The captain's eyes widened a fraction, ignoring Jack's struggling as he stepped towards Anthony. His eyes were bright against his pale skin, a slight smirk lighting his lips. "I do believe you are correct, Mr. Gibbs." 

The man holding Anthony seemed to swell with the praise. The pirate captain stopped directly in front of him and looked down. "What is your name?" 

Anthony mirrored Jack, his lips pressed tight. The captain rolled his eyes. "Oh, have some _sense,_ lad. I am not afraid to take what I want." In emphasis, he pulled out another pistol and pointed it directly behind him at Jack. "Answer me, or I shall make sure you watch his head fly off." 

Jack's eyes said _No, I'll be fine, keep your mouth shut._ But he knew, having spent three weeks with Anthony, that silence was a genuine issue for the young genius, which is why he wasn't at all surprised when he opened his mouth. 

"Tony," he said. The captain put his pistol away and stared down at him. 

"Where are you from, Tony? You are obviously not one of these _glorified_ privateers." 

He thought of Bill, lying across from him, and what little he knew of his life. "London. I am borrowing passage back from a two year long trip." 

Those emerald eyes seemed to glare through him, turning from bright to dark. "What a terrible _liar."_ Before Anthony could even say anything, the captain turned his attention to Gibbs. "Mr. Gibbs - see to it that we locate young Tony's things and set him amongst the finest aboard _Sleipnir._ We have much to discuss." 

Anthony was wrestled to his feet and pushed after the captain, now heading towards the plank that he had crossed with. He struggled as much as he could, digging his heels into the deck in hopes to stop his advancement. 

Jack, now behind him, thrashed against the man holding him captive. _"Unhand_ him, pirate! He's an innocent _boy,_ boarding my ship to see his mother! Your quarrel is with _me!"_

The captain paused and turned back to face Jack. "You are absolutely correct, Mr. Russ. I _do_ apologize." He crossed swiftly back to the kneeling man, causing Anthony to bodily force his escort to stop. With a quickness to rival that of his gunshot before, the pirate produced a knife and slashed it across Jack's face, his hat flying from his head. 

Jack fell back to his knees, his hands freed as he covered his face. Anthony took his chance - he stomped Gibbs' foot and ran to Jack, not at all ashamed to have shoved the pirate captain out of his way. 

Blood pooled in Jack's hands, not seemingly able to register Anthony's hands on his shoulders. "Jack, Jack look at me, _please."_

The man shuddered but looked up, his left hand holding the side of his face. Blood streaming from between his fingers, he stared unfocused at Anthony for just a second. _"Anthony,"_ he said, his voice low. Gibbs was scrambling behind him, heading directly for him. "Take my name; whatever you do, they _cannot_ know who you are. Protect yourself." 

"What about you, Jack?" He asked, his hand attempting to push Jack's back from his face. The pressure was needed - his slight prodding made the blood flow again. "Your eye - " 

"Fine, all fine," he ground out. "I'll live as long as I know you'll be safe. Promise me you'll protect yourself from these fucks. Don't trust a drop of them." 

"I promise," Anthony whispered. Gibbs grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. He elbowed him again in the gut, hearing the man's wind leave him. He wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders tightly. "Don't die, _idiota."_

Jack's lips cracked a smile against his cheek, his usual tobacco scented breath turning copper. "I couldn't see you again if I did, Master." 

Anthony held tighter, even as Gibbs grabbed him again. Jack, using his hand still freed from his pirate captor, landed a square punch to Gibb's jaw to prompt the man to release him again. He wrapped his arm around Anthony's shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, his lips chapped and bloody. "Be strong." 

This time, Gibbs had help hauling him away. Jack's captor decided it wasn't so much fun to watch Gibbs get punched when his captain was now involved in dragging the two apart. Anthony tried to keep his eyes on Jack as best as he could, but once his feet were off the _Cavalier,_ his vision was obscured. 

The last he saw of Jack was the man wrestling with his captor, even with blood streaming down the left side of his face and matting his hair to his neck. He was tough, battle hardened by years at sea fighting pirates for the good of all, but even he had a breaking point. A well-placed hit by the hilt of the pirate's pistol left the proud man sprawled out across the deck of what was now his ship. 

* * *


	2. All For A (Literally) Bloody Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three solemn days aboard Sleipnir and Anthony has been universally shunned - except by a rather old sailor that seems to be far too kind to be a pirate. Will Anthony befriend him or take Jack's parting advice to heart?

* * *

The quarters aboard _Sleipnir_ were surprisingly well kept, not something at all that Anthony expected from a pirate ship. He was ushered into a room similar to the one he occupied on _HMS Cavalier,_ quite close to the galley. It boasted a small cot and bolted down desk, both relatively clean. He almost could have fooled himself into believing nothing at all had changed. 

If he didn't account for the shackles around his ankles that kept him confined to his small space. 

Anthony was able to keep in high spirits by only one fact alone - every time Gibbs came to torment him, he was treated to a wonderful sight. The gruff pirate had quite the large bruise along his right jaw, exactly where Jack had punched him before they were pulled apart the final time. It made Anthony grin broadly, larger still when Gibbs spat and cursed at him to 'fix yer gob, boy'. 

The thought of Jack was becoming bittersweet. There was a small window above his cot through which he had seen the side of the _Cavalier._ The pirates had looted all they wanted from her, Anthony and his things included. All manner of weaponry and food were seized, but they left her floating. Anthony was relieved - even watching the ship grow smaller and smaller on the horizon was better than watching her sink. Especially with Jack now her captain, and still very much on board. 

Had Anthony sailed away to watch her sink, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd be feeling. 

"Oi." Anthony turned from the window, sitting on his cot, to look pass the curtain that gave him some semblance of privacy. It wasn't Gibbs, but a short man holding what Anthony assumed to be dinner. "'Ere be yer food, mate." 

Anthony mumbled a thanks as the man passed it over. He recognized his face, having seen him during his 'tour' of the ship. The man nodded, his hair pulled back under a grubby red bandana. His face was weathered and tan, and Anthony was fully willing to assume it felt like dried leather. "Try an' not to look so solemn." 

Anthony didn't answer, just looking at the thinned stew between his palms and not at all hungry. He felt the man linger a moment as he obviously wanted to say more. 

"Cap'n said yer free to go where ye please," he said. Anthony looked up as he came closer. He kneeled at where his legs turned off the edge of his cot and produced a large brass key. A few turns later and Anthony's feet were free. The inventor absently rubbed his ankles, sore from days bound. 

"What is your name?" Anthony asked, his voice hoarse from disuse. The man still kneeled beside him, his palms now down on his thighs. He was the only one to call him 'mate', in all the days aboard the ship. 

"Me Christian name be Joseph, but 'ese sea dogs call me Goldie," he said, his lips pulling back in a wide grin. Goldie's eyes glistened a bright blue that surprised Anthony. 

"I am - " Anthony began then paused. _Not Anthony._ "I am Tony." 

"Pleased t'meetcha, lad." Goldie pushed his hand out to Anthony, who shifted his food to the desk and took it gently. 

"Why do they call you Goldie?" He asked, curiousity leaking into his tone. Goldie grinned wider and pointed to his teeth. 

"Half me teeth were punched out when I was 'bout yer age," he said, and now Anthony could see the quick glisten as he spoke. "Had 'em fixed right good wif gold." 

Anthony couldn't help but grin back. "I imagine your jaw is worth quite a bit to these pirates." 

"Aye, but not til I be dead," Goldie said, his eyes twinkling. "Jus' ask the last fool wot tried to pull one over on ol' Goldie." 

Anthony smiled. Goldie seemed kind enough. "I bet you give them all hell." 

"Damned if I don't!" Goldie announced with a laugh, his lips pulled back widely. His teeth were checkered pale yellow and gold; the fake ones glistened with his laughter. 

Anthony felt himself relax as he and Goldie spoke. He was older, by far the oldest Anthony had met on this little disaster of a voyage, nearing the beginnings of sixty. Anthony knew of the elderly from aristocracy in Rome, all poised and regal in gold and silkened finery. All staring down their noses at Anthony's tinkering as a child and well into adulthood. All stuffy and stiff and disgusted. Goldie, with his bright gold teeth and even brighter blue eyes, put them all to shame. 

Goldie sat on his haunches as they spoke, the position not at all bothering him. Anthony found himself crossing his legs and leaning forward, interested in all the old pirate had to say. Soon the light from Anthony's window trailed away, replaced with a paler shade and now oil lit lamps. 

"Tony," Goldie began, breaking a companionable silence that had settled over the pair. "It's been three days now, lad. 'Bout time you clean dat face o' yers." 

Anthony brought his fingers to the long mark over his left cheek. The wound had long since stopped bleeding, now rough with healing scab. Anthony despaired that the mark would most likely be permanent, even with his best efforts to clean it with what little clean water he was given. 

"I appreciate your concern, Goldie, but I doubt more cleaning will prevent permanence," Anthony answered heavily. Goldie shook his head. 

"Not yer cheek, mate." He nodded his head and pointed a knobbed finger higher. Anthony followed the point with his own fingers, coming to a rest when he felt a crusting at his temple. Confusion lighted his expression before realization dawned. 

The crust was Jack's blood, left at his temple from the fleeting press of his lips. Without the distraction Goldie had unwittingly brought, Anthony felt himself being dragged back to the deck of the _Cavalier._ Three days weren't long enough to erase the sight of Bill gored before him, or the image of the sailor Jack had passed him to getting his neck blown apart by a pirate's pistol. It was all too real, all far too fresh. Anthony absolutely doubted that three year's time would be enough to rid him of that day. 

He pulled his fingers back and gazed down at them. His fingernails were black around the edges and beneath the small bit they had grown in his travel. Anthony rubbed the blood that had dried and flaked off at his touch between his fingers. 

Jack had to be alive. Anthony hadn't seen much else of him after boarding _Sleipnir,_ his only comfort being able to still see the splintered side of his ship through the port window above his cot. What felt like days later they pushed off of her, leaving the _Cavalier_ floating in the literal middle of nowhere, but not burning. Word reached him from the passing crew as they either purposely ignored or leered at him that the ship remained afloat, captain's orders. 

The very same captain that had been willing to send Jack to his death to simply get Anthony's _name._

Goldie sat patiently before him, not pressing the matter of washing again. He knew he had to have drifted off for a moment, but this old man seemed patient. But he was one of them - one of those damned _pirates,_ regardless of how kind or thoughtful he appeared. 

_Don't trust a drop of them,_ Jack said. Oh, Anthony certainly wouldn't. 

"That would be most appreciated, Goldie," Anthony said with a small smile. The same smile he used when dealing with the men who attempted to buy his father's plantation from him when he was eight years old. Quiet and tight. 

Goldie didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he had, as he rose to his feet. He paused to wipe his palms on his knees and popped his back. "Aye, I be gettin' too old." 

"Not at all, Goldie," Anthony called as the old man moved around the sheet that acted as a makeshift wall for slight privacy. He disappeared from sight for only a moment, rounding back with a soiled but wet rag. Goldie passed it to Anthony who took it with a smile, using it to dab gently at the press of crusted blood at his temple. The motion pulled the strands of his hair but Anthony didn't mind. He was too busy trying to convince himself that washing this bit of Jack away wasn't killing him, that he would still be alive out there and trying his damnedest to find him. Hardly a second later, he pushed the rag back into Goldie's hand and feigned a yawn. 

"Thank you kindly, Goldie," he said, smiling. The old man practically beamed at him, and Anthony felt a pang of guilt. They had literally just spent hours talking about the sea and Goldie's life - he wanted to trust the old man so bad it _hurt._ The only person aboard this entire floating prison that gave him the time of day. Yet, he was no Bill. No large bellied man with a laugh that could shake the rafters; instead a man stooped by age and profession with a blinding smile and sparkling eyes. 

Yet, he still was no Bill. 

Goldie bade him good night with the offer that he was in the galley should he need him. It was comforting to hear, even if all Anthony could place was Bill saying something similar to him during the beginning of his travels. 

Anthony stood up and drew back the curtain over the entrance of his...area. It gave him comfort to shield himself from prying eyes for the first time since his capture. He drew his legs to his chest as he sat back on the cot, resting his unmarred cheek against his knees. 

The ship moved beneath him softly, the waters forgiving as the moon rose higher. Anthony strained his eyes, attempting to pick out anything over the dark expanse. The moon was high and bright but there was not a star to be seen, and as he watched, the moon became obscured by thin clouds. Those times, Anthony would be entirely submerged in darkness. Only the sounds of shuffling above on the deck and an occasional shout from below reminded him that he wasn't dying, that this was now his life. 

When the moon appeared again, Anthony looked beyond the foot of his cot to his single traveling bag. The men had done what they were told and gathered his things, but not before going through them first. Anthony, too beyond himself to care, had yet to look through his things to see what exactly would be missing. Pirates were thieves, if his current state was anything to account for, and he absolutely would bet his pardon that the very item that granted it for him was missing. 

With another sigh, Anthony rested his cheek on his knee and looked back out across the sea again. The end of the third day, and still he wished to see that paled canary of the _Cavalier_ on the horizon. 

* * *

When Goldie woke him the next day, a new bowl full of stew and bread in hand, Anthony was ravenous. He ate the stew quickly and even wiped the inside of the bowl clean with his hunk of bread, both to soften it and to not miss a drop. Goldie laughed, having pulled over a chair to sit and share their meal. 

"Glad it be to yer likin', mate," he teased, those blue eyes sparkling with joy. Anthony rubbed the side of his mouth sheepishly and grinned. 

"Thank you," he answered, passing over his empty bowl to Goldie's outstretched hand. In truth, it wasn't so much that the stew was good (hardly - he was Italian, and nothing was as flavourful as his nation's cuisine) but the act of actually _eating._ The last meal he had was made by Bill, three days ago, that hadn't sat well in his stomach at all after watching the man die. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if his vomit was still in the spool of rope he had passed to get below deck. 

The deck. Anthony blinked. It certainly was stuffy below deck, which wasn't really something he noticed on the _Cavalier._ There he had spent his days watching sailors pull the sails and fasten rigging, all at Jack's command as he held the helm. Anthony ignored the flip his stomach gave at the involuntary image his mind conjured of Jack - holding strong to the helm and barking orders with a wide smile on his face, the wind tossing the feathers atop his hat to and fro. 

"Goldie," he said abruptly, drawing the man's attention. Anthony hadn't even seen him leave to put away their bowls. 

"Aye?" He called in acknowledgement. 

"I am free to move as I please, you said?" Anthony asked. 

"Aye!" The old man answered, his weathered face popping from around Anthony's open curtain. "Want to see the deck?" 

Anthony felt a small genuine smile grace his lips. "I would." 

Goldie whooped and slapped his knee, disappearing from sight. He was back a scarce second later with a wide grin. "Come along, mate." 

Anthony was incredibly grateful to be free of the dank damp air the belly of the ship birthed. It was nice to feel the wind in his face again, the warm sun on his skin. It was almost therapeutic as it seemed to push the cold Anthony had felt creeping into his bones away. 

The crew moved at a leisurely pace, and several seemed nearly drunk. Goldie kept him away from several of them and snapped at those who got too close. Anthony didn't mind - he had no need to want to socialize with the men who killed his friends. Goldie was the only exception - Anthony hadn't met him until he was already taken captive. 

To pass time, Goldie pointed out more of the ship to Anthony, who drank it all up with wonder. The workings of a ship was still amazingly fascinating to him. How the shift and pull of the helm caused the entire vessel to maneuver effortlessly, but only by the aide sailors offered as they pulled and tightened and loosened the main sails awakened the inventor in him with a fervor. 

The door leading below deck opened and several men poured out, all laughing boisterously. It drew their attention, and the sight made Anthony frown. Gibbs was at the front, his jaw still purple from Jack's punch. Anthony felt satisfied at the mark but wanted to do more damage himself. Maybe shove his face to the deck with his boot and snatch him around by his greasy hair. 

Goldie seemed to sense the shift in Anthony. "Careful, mate," he warned, taking a small step closer to Anthony. "Gibbs 'as a bit o' a grudge against ye." 

"Let him," Anthony answered, louder than Goldie's low warning. His voice drew Gibbs' attention, a sickening smile spreading across his mug. 

"Ahoy, mates! Lookit wot we 'ave here," Gibbs announced, holding his arms out wide. His nasty brown hair, slick with grease, managed to be tossed by a strong gust. "The Italian has come out to play with the _big_ boys." 

Anthony's growl must have been louder than he thought as Gibbs drew his arms back in a show of mock fear. "Oi! An' he's got a temper. Too bad yer pretty quar'ermaster ain't around to protect ye." 

"You watch yourself, _Mr._ Gibbs," Anthony ground out. The pirates around Gibbs hooted loudly, all too amused by Anthony's show of bravado. It wasn't a show - were there to be a cutlass handy, Anthony would gladly go down if it meant Gibbs would join him. 

"Or wot're ye gon' do?" Gibbs demanded, his eyes daring to see what Anthony would say. 

"Come off it, Gibbs," Goldie answered for him. He stepped between Anthony and where Gibbs had been edging closer. "'Ave ye no _manners?"_

"Shaddup, Goldie," Gibbs snapped. "Wot manners be _owed_ to him? A boy amongst men, scared shitless to be without 'is protector?" 

"That's _enough_ from ye, Gibbs," Goldie answered darkly. "I suggest ye be back to the bowels before I send ye there meself." 

Gibbs laughed again, looking around at the group that surrounded him. "Aye, aye, mate. We just be givin' the boy a run. No hard feelins." 

Goldie visibly relaxed but scowled. "Off wif ye, then." 

Gibbs waved a hand and turned, but not before shooting Anthony a dark look. Anthony held his gaze icily until he fully turned away. "I would have been fine." 

"Aye, I believe ye," Goldie answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "But Gibbs be a dirty fighter, a downright scoundrel. He would rather stab ye than face ye." 

"Hmm." Anthony answered. He kept his eyes on where Gibbs was, now climbing the stairs to the helm. The man behind the wheel wasn't the dark captain, but instead someone new Anthony had never seen. He watched Gibbs lean towards him and mutter amongst themselves, his gaze occasionally lifting to Anthony. Whatever that man was planning, Anthony knew he wasn't going to like it. 

Goldie attempted to distract him with tidbits about the ship again, but he wasn't as invested as he was before Gibbs graced his consciousness. His eyes drifted from pirate to pirate, looking in the direction Goldie would be pointing. After listening to Goldie explain the shift in the watch and how to properly oil a cannon, he spotted it. 

There, atop the crown of one of the pirates who shadowed Gibbs, was Jack's hat. Anthony would recognize it anywhere - black trimmed in thick red ribbon and topped with a white feathered plumage. Only the feather wasn't as white anymore, edging more on a deep maroon, but still standing as proudly as possible through dried blood. 

Anthony felt his throat contract with a tightness that had nothing to do with dryness. 

Suddenly, he was pushing away from the railing of the ship and crossing towards the pirate in long strides. He dimly heard Goldie calling for him but paid no heed. He didn't stop until he was directly behind the pirate, his anger now blazing. 

"Oi!" He snapped, surprising the pirate in Jack's hat. He turned slowly, and once Anthony could clearly see his face, he recognized him to be the pirate that had knocked Jack to his knees before he couldn't see him any longer. "Remove that hat." 

"Wot?" The man groused, eyebrow raised. Anthony grit his teeth. 

"Remove. That. _Hat,"_ he said slowly, careful to add emphasis to each syllable as he would with a child. The pirate was immediately offended, which was exactly what Anthony wanted. 

"Sod off," he growled, turning his back to Anthony again. The inventor decided he had made his mind up for him. 

Anthony tapped his shoulder. The second the man turned, presumably to tell Anthony where he was willing to shove that hat, Anthony made a solid connection with his right fist. 

Silence took over the deck as the pirate pitched wildly to the left, flailing against the railing in surprise. His jaw went slack as he cradled his chin with his other hand. Anthony took his chance, snatching Jack's hat from the crown of the dazed pirate and dropping it over his head. He looked down his nose at the sprawled invalid and smirked. "I _did_ ask kindly." 

Anthony turned to walk away, only to have a strong hand grip his bicep and spin him around into the blazing eyes of Gibbs. His eyes were as dark and greasy as his hair, making Anthony sneer. "Unhand me, _fool."_

"Who the _fuck_ d'ya think ye _be?"_ He demanded, his grip tightening. 

In that second, Anthony had had _enough._ By now, he should have already been in London with a meeting scheduled with the King. He should have been tinkering away in a royal workshop, perfecting his invention. Most of all, he should have been by Jack's side the remainder of his voyage and perhaps for a fine week after docking as the ship was repainted. All of this, his entire situation that brought him to the need to procure Jack's hat _back_ from pirates, could have been avoided were it not for Gibbs. He certainly seemed like a wonderfully willing scapegoat and in a most convenient light. 

Which was why Anthony reared back and added a matching bruise to the other side of his jaw. The pirate growled as he staggered, but this time Anthony did not have the element of surprise. Gibbs righted himself disappointingly quick, lunging for Anthony's chest. The inventor's breath left his lungs as his back hit the deck, Gibbs' weight settled heavily on his chest. 

Pirates gathered around in a circle, several leaving their posts to cheer Gibbs on. Their voices were loud and rough with more than a few slurred from drink. 

_"Get 'em, Gibbs!"_

_"Show 'at nancy how it be done!"_

_"Aye, aye, Gibbs!"_

The rush of blood in Anthony's ears drowned out their voices as Gibbs clambered up, drawing his fists back and taking aim. One connected with Anthony's shoulder as he attempted to roll away, the second with his collar. He hissed, knowing damned well this wouldn't end in his favour if he didn't _move,_ and attempted to push Gibbs off with his waist. The older man didn't budge, only shifting his weight forward enough to thoroughly pin Anthony down. 

The younger endured two punches to his chin before he was able to shift his weight enough to throw Gibbs over his head. The momentum tossed Gibbs beyond his reach but that was fine - his head was swimming and his vision blurred from the last blows. Still, after a quick shake, Anthony was up to his knees and drawing his fists up to his chin. He needed to protect his ribs, already sore from Gibbs' unbearable weight and the most likely target. 

Gibbs rose and snarled, blood trickling from his nose. Anthony grinned at him and cocked his head, surprised to see the dangle of Jack's feather over his shoulder. He figured the hat would have fled at the most opportune time but was glad to see it stuck around. Gibbs let out a loud roar that was met by even louder cheering and charged, his arms raised. Anthony had enough time to evade, spinning out of his way and pushing down roughly on his back. Gibbs stumbled and slammed into a crate, losing his balance. 

Anthony straightened up. "Just stay there and save face, old man." 

Gibbs thrashed about the crate, wood flying. "Shut yer _GOB!"_

Anthony shook his head and grinned. "I got what I wanted; I shall be - " 

Strong arms snatched Anthony's arms behind him and pushed him forward. He bit his lip, using his newly found angle to peer through his legs. Two men stood behind him, each holding one of his arms. Panic began to settle as he realized what had happened. Or rather, what was _about_ to happen as Gibbs regained his footing and headed towards him. 

"Wot was that, _lad?_ Stay down? Why, from me eyes yer in quite the _predicament,"_ he said, his voice dripping delight. He grabbed Anthony's chin roughly and pulled him forward. "Now be still so's I can beat th' _pretty_ from yer _face."_

Gibbs held his chin in a tightly bruising grip as he pulled back. Anthony screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain he knew that was to come. The first punch had his entire head spinning, and the second he was blinking away stars. The sounds of the cheering crowd were beginning to grow distant as the pain numbed him; by the fourth, he could feel a wetness sliding down his cheek. 

Then, it was all over. Gibbs dropped his chin and the two pirates helping him fell away. Anthony dropped to his knees and braced himself on his hands. Slowly the dark wood of the deck swam into focus, accompanied by a pair of black boots just within his sight. 

Anthony looked up after spitting a mouthful of blood between his hands. His stomach flipped with panic for the second time that day; he found himself staring up into the poison green eyes of the pirate captain, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. 

"My, my," he drawled, his lips quirking. The captain crouched down before the broken inventor and took his chin gently, turning his face left and right. Anthony swallowed, unnerved by the chill touch of the captain's fingers. "What mess have you caught yourself in, I wonder?" 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know this update was super fast. Well, I was going to work on another fic but this one was still so fresh in my mind so I went with it. The updates will continue as usual again (hopefully). Share your thoughts! :)


	3. Goldie Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony has quite a bit to answer for over that hat, and maybe Goldie knows the best course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I was away for a week and then was sick because of the trip and now I'm just getting back into the swing of the routine. Please enjoy!

* * *

_"What mess have you caught yourself in, I wonder?"_

Anthony tried his best to work his throat, to loosen the searing constriction caused by being graced by the captain's shadow. When no words or sounds came forth, the pale man smirked. 

"Ah, I see that your tongue has abandoned you." He spoke softly, his words only loud enough for Anthony to hear. "That fire died disappointingly _quick."_

Anthony watched as the captain stood, his shadow stretching further over him. Still his throat would not unclench, and it seemed that the pirate's full dark presence absolutely wasn't helping. Anthony could feel the warm blood dripping from his cheek and now teasing his chin; he watched the captain wipe that very blood from his fingers onto a kerchief he produced from within his overcoat. 

"Goldie," the captain called, voice now carrying across his gathered crew. There was a sharpness there that hadn't been when he spoke to Anthony, even through his annoyance. 

Anthony heard shuffling behind him. "Aye, Cap'n." 

"Clean the lad and bring him to me," the captain answered. He tucked the now spotted white kerchief back within the folds of his coat. Anthony's throat finally released only to seize again when the words of his fate sank in. When Goldie's hand fell to his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, the entire world spun. 

For the moment, so enraged was he at seeing Jack's hat disgraced by the very pirate that beat him unconscious, Anthony had been blinded. For that moment he was simply himself, fighting a smug bastard for his honour or, in this case, Jack's. He was in Italy, fighting some drunkard too far gone to recognize Anthony's sister for who she is and not a barmaid; not on a bloody pirate ship fighting bloodthirsty men who would only stop their blows should he stop breathing. 

Anthony blinked as he was pulled back, the sounds of the ocean and ship drowned out by the dark captain's voice, commanding and deadly even at such a low volume. Before Goldie pulled him below deck, the pirate's voice was lost to him. 

"Get yer sea legs workin', Tony," Goldie grumbled. Anthony murmured an apology, fully aware that he had thrown his weight to the older and much shorter man but hardly caring. He felt sicker than when he had started his voyage, long before Bill had fixed him the gruff cure-all used to fight the sickness at sea. His world lurched to and fro, and not from just the seemingly exaggerated motion of the ship; the blood dripping from his cheek and the still throbbing blows to his skull told his body that those 'sea legs' Goldie wanted weren't working and were happily back on the _Cavalier._ Goldie obviously saw something on the inventor's face that prompted him to snatch a nearby bucket and dump the contents to the deck. 

"If'n ye won't hold t' me, hold t' _this,"_ the man said, pushing the bucket to Anthony and forcing his hands to hold it. Scarcely a second later and Anthony plunged his face to the rim, his body rocking from his own heaving. Goldie dropped a warm palm to his shoulder and held tight. Anthony couldn't help but feel some relief - of all the wrong turns his life had taken in such a short amount of time, Goldie seemed to be the beacon amongst the dark. 

Anthony sank to his haunches, cradling the bucket like a lifeline and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Goldie sat with his hand still on his shoulder, and gave a soft shake. "Ye feel a tad better?" 

Anthony nodded, still not trusting his voice. Goldie smiled that toothy grin of his and stood back up. He took the bucket and its meager contents and moved to the nearest porthole. After unceremoniously dumping the sick into the ocean, he set the bucket aside for cleaning and moved back over. "C'mon, Tony. The cap'n dudin't much care for waitin." He held his hand out patiently. Anthony stared for a moment, willing himself to move, but the sudden opening of the trap door to the deck got his feet beneath him as his sole motivation. 

Goldie helped him to the galley, snapping occasionally at the pirates milling about around them. Anthony received several dirty looks but ignored them as best as possible. The pirate that had caused it all eyed Anthony murderously; seeing that Goldie was busy gathering medicinals, Anthony took the opportunity to flick his middle finger and reveled in the anger it caused the man. Feeling more than a bit smug, he smiled brightly when Goldie stepped back into his view with a bottle and hot rag. 

Before long they were alone, Goldie dutifully cleaning the freshly opened wound on Anthony's cheek. What was left of the scabbing was pulled away along with the new that had formed as they fled. "Ye keep it up and that pretty mug o' yers will be scarred," Goldie murmured, teasing. Anthony snorted. 

"As it hardly _matters,"_ Anthony answered, drawing a snigger from Goldie. "Should these fools have their way, I shan't see the light of the morrow." 

Goldie stilled his hand, his sniggering dying off immediately. "Don't speak 'at way, Tony. The cap'n 'as yer back." 

Anthony couldn't help his scoff. "I am but cargo to him, and now a menace. I doubt he has much use for me after today." 

"Mayhaps," Goldie said as he continued his cleaning. Sometime in his tone was cryptic, but he wasn't volunteering. The curiousity was driving Anthony mad. 

"What does that mean, Goldie?" Anthony asked. Goldie schooled his features to that of nonchalance as he rubbed in fresh antiseptic. Anthony hissed from the burn. _"Goldie!"_

Goldie grabbed his chin roughly and pressed a finger to his lips. _"Silence,_ boy. I be tellin' ye soon enuff. Now shaddup so's I can finish - and stop yer damn _squirmin'."_

Anthony huffed but did as he was told. Goldie worked with a slight hum, something Anthony didn't notice before as the pirates coursed around them. The old pirate ran the rag over his fresh wound once more then tapped his chin in thought. A moment of silence was ended by an abrupt snap, and Goldie was up and back to the cabinet he had gathered his supplies from. He was back with a crude goblet between his hands and held it out to Anthony. 

"Drink half an' swish th' rest 'round," Goldie instructed. Anthony eyed the concoction but did as he was told. It was minty with a touch of lime, something he was surprised to note aboard a pirate ship. It tasted wonderful and fresh and was a tasty balm for his dried and sore throat. He swished the rest and spat back into the goblet, not at all surprised to see bits of sick and blood floating in the now frothy drink. 

"Aye, works like a charm!" Goldie said proudly, taking the goblet and dumping it into a nearby pail. 

"What was that?" Anthony asked, feeling far too refreshed for the day he had been having. 

"A secret the cap'n an' I 'ave," Goldie answered, his voice low but the tone still proud. "See, the cap'n 'as a few vanities. Cleanliness be one o' 'em, so's I made dis mouthrinse. Bit o' lime, some minced mint, water an' a touch o' rum from th' Caribbean. Works like a charm ev'ry time!" 

Anthony nodded, the ingenuity and simplicity of it surprising him. "You are quite the genius, Goldie." 

The grizzled old man's neck reddened. "Nah, mate. Ye be the only genius aboard dis vessel." 

Anthony grinned brightly, not at all expecting the praise. "There's room for another, Goldie." 

Goldie smiled, his namesake shining brightly. "Aye now, flattery be gettin' ye nowhere." He stood up, his knees popping slightly. "Come along, now. Off to th' cap'n wif ye." 

The mention of his fate brought Anthony's lightened mood to a screeching halt. Still, he stood up and fell into step behind Goldie, his head held high but his shoulders drooping. They stepped out onto the deck to find it rather silent for a pirate ship - the scuffle Anthony had caused seemed to sober several of the crew. No one turned towards them as they walked, and even those that did adverted their eyes quickly. 

"Tony," Goldie whispered, his hand grabbing Anthony's wrist. The inventor paused, looking over at his guide. 

Goldie's bright blue eyes met his own, and a chill raced down Anthony's spine. "Th' cap'n can be..." He looked away a moment, as if the word escaped him. 

"Scary as hell?" Anthony deadpanned. 

"Aye, _that,"_ Goldie agreed with a curt nod. "But a good man. 'E's a cap't o' a feared pirate ship, a scoundrel wot gives ev'n _Blackbeard_ nightmares." Anthony wasn't feeling convinced; Goldie grinned quickly, as if he could read Anthony's mind, and stepped a fraction closer. "Me an' me _alone_ saw th' look on 'is face when 'e 'eard o' th' scuffle." 

Anthony blinked. _"You_ were the one to get him?" 

"Aye," Goldie answered, his eyes hardening. "It needed to end." 

The inventor wasn't sure how he should be feeling - angry that Goldie had fetched the captain, or grateful that he wasn't shark chum. "Thank you, Goldie." 

The old man's cheery countenance was back and he grinned. "Me pleasure, Tony. Now go - 'is patience, mate." 

Anthony looked towards the door to the captain's quarters, a scarce ten feet away. Goldie gave him a slight push and turned away, barking some nonsense at a slacking pirate. Anthony watched him for a moment - perhaps Jack had been wrong about all the pirates. Goldie seemed a kind man. 

Taking a deep breath, Anthony raised his chin and stepped towards the door. The hat that had caused all this trouble was still bouncing its feather just in his peripheral sight; Anthony had nearly forgotten all about it below deck. It quickly became a source of comfort, fueling his courage. Jack hadn't shown any fear in the face of this fearsome captain days before, and neither would Anthony. He raised his fist and knocked twice, loud. 

There was a pause, and Anthony felt like he could feel every iota of courage flood from his pores when he heard the answer: "Come in." 

Anthony held his breath and turned the knob. It took a slight second of adjustment before he could actually see, the room lit by lanterns instead of the bright sun behind him. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. The hardwood floor was covered in a deep maroon rug, possibly Persian, and quite plush beneath Anthony's boots. The glance down caused his eye to catch the bright crimson stain on the breast of his tunic. Oh bollocks, he should have changed his _tunic_ \- why didn't Goldie _say_ anything? 

"Are you coming in?" The calm voice startled Anthony from his fussing, pulling his eyes from the rug and his stained tunic forward. The captain stood over the table in the centre, covered in what Anthony assumed to be charts or maps. His eyes met the captain's, still such an ethereal shade that Anthony was certain they glowed in the low light. He watched as the captain straightened with a sigh and folded his arms over his chest. "Well?" 

Anthony nodded quickly and shut the door behind him. Wonderful - first step in the door and he was already making an enemy. Some of the annoyance seemed to drain from the captain's form after the door was shut. Still, Anthony made no move to step further into his quarters. 

The captain ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing back what had fallen forward as he leaned over his parchment. He cocked his hip to the table and rested, his chin tilting up as he regarded Anthony with obvious curiousity. "Why do you linger in my doorway?" 

His voice wasn't that of what Anthony believed a pirate captain to have. He sounded the same as he had when he crouched before Anthony what seemed like a year ago on the deck. Not at all the low commanding he barely caught as Goldie led him below deck. 

"Frankly," Anthony began, finding his voice. "I'm expecting the worst." 

The captain laughed, a surprised sound that startled Anthony. As if it was rarely used. "Oh? And what do you deem to be 'the worst'?" 

Anthony waved a hand. "Oh, I don't know - a throwing knife, quick gunshot, perhaps a hanging? Or, better yet, go truly pirate and make me walk the plank - " 

The captain laughed again, this sound warmer. He dropped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound; the action made Anthony smile slightly. He supposed that if he died, he could die knowing that he made a pirate captain laugh a bit. 

"Ah," the captain said, crossing his arms again. His poison eyes danced with mirth. "What can be said about you, lad - you can be charming." 

"Unfortunately," Anthony said, still feeling a soft grin on his lips despite his nerves. He had been serious, after all. 

"Indeed," the captain answered. He pushed away from the table and gestured to the chair closest to Anthony. "Sit, if you would." 

Anthony nodded, feeling more than a little relieved that none of his predictions came to light. He stepped further into the room and felt a strange chill - as if he was invading a space not yet open to him. The captain waited until he was sitting before pulling up a chair and joining his 'guest', pausing a moment to roll up his parchments. Anthony watched those too pale hands put the rolls away with far too much finesse. There was absolutely no way this man could be a _true_ pirate, let alone a captain - he was far too cultured. 

"Now, about the scene on my deck," the captain said conversationally, as if he wasn't aware of the palpable anxiety Anthony shed. "I am interested in your view." 

Anthony cleared his throat. "There was a disagreement." 

The captain nodded. "So I gathered," he drawled. "What about?" 

The object itself seemed to want to attract the captain's attention; the feather bobbed lightly as Anthony nodded. The captain looked up and frowned. "Surely it isn't because of this?" 

Anthony bit his bottom lip; a terrible habit his sister had not been able to rid for him. "Yes." 

The captain looked from Anthony's face to the black hat and drooped feather. "Ah, the hat of the quartermaster, Jack Russ. Yes?" 

Anthony felt his stomach flip at Jack's name. "Yes," he answered quietly, eyes focusing on a mark in the table that looked suspiciously like a knife indent. 

"I see," the captain answered, leaning back. He fixed his gaze on the hat, making Anthony squirm. He would rather die than give what small connection he had to Jack away. It was then that he noticed that the captain's own hat was resting on a perch near the man's bed behind them, his stately overcoat on the hook beneath it. Perhaps he was being rude, to continue to wear the hat while the pirate captain did not. Hats were a social status amongst them, correct? Anthony was certain it had to be - why else would that invalid take Jack's after leaving him unconscious? 

He was going to die from not removing his damn hat while he sat at a pirate captain's table. Anthony swallowed and reached his hand up, hoping it wasn't as shaky as he felt. 

"You may keep it," the captain said, now resting a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "You fought for it, you may keep it." 

Anthony's finger graced the brim before dropping away. "Should I thank you?" 

The captain chuckled, a low sound that curled his lip in an accompanying smirk. "If you feel the need." 

Anthony shook his head. "You're right - I fought for it." He decided to leave it at that. The captain couldn't say he was deliberately being ungrateful if he didn't actually _be_ ungrateful. 

The smirk on the captain's lips turned mischievous, as if he saw clear through all of Anthony's nonsense. Which wouldn't surprise Anthony in the slightest. There was something odd about this man, a strangeness that the inventor couldn't quite place. It was unnerving. 

"Will you tell me your name?" the captain asked, his chin still resting on his palm. Anthony furrowed his brow. 

"Tony Russ," he answered, his tone ranging on suspicious. The captain sighed and nodded. 

"I suppose we will continue this charade, then," he said as he stood. "In any case, it does not stop your punishment for fighting. For all your youth, I am assured that you will survive it." 

Anthony felt his stomach sink - what punishment? He certainly hoped it wasn't any of what he named, but he wasn't comforted by that knowledge. Pirates were inventive arseholes. 

"You are to be strapped to the main mast for three day's time," the captain said, his tone detached and aloof. He crossed his quarters quickly and pulled open his door. He waved curtly and turned back in, the sunlight framing him against the door and making Anthony squint. "That is, unless you wish to tell me your name?" 

Anthony stood up quickly. "Tony Russ is my god-given name." 

Two pirates walked in, one carrying rope and the other heading for Anthony. The captain shook his head, his dark hair shaking slightly. "Unfortunately there is no god here, lad. Men, strap him up." 

Anthony fought down the urge to struggle, only resisting when one made a go for his hat. The captain stepped in with a low _tsk._ "He keeps the hat, Mr. Penn." 

Anthony blinked and glanced at the captain, surprised. He was smirking slightly, his eyes holding too much amusement at what appeared to be their secret. 

The man gruffly nodded, twisting the knot around Anthony's wrists too tight. "Aye, Cap'n Laufey!" 

With that call, it seemed that all of Anthony's world crumbled around him. He was on the ship of pirate Captain Laufey. The only knowledge Anthony had of this man was what sailors garbled about after too much drink. Laufey captured ships with abandon, leaving schooners and man o' wars alike burning in his wake. He was a wanted man in nearly every country with a bounty on his head worth more than Anthony's sugar cane plantation. Worse still, no one knew what he looked like because he left no survivors. Except Anthony, and the remaining crew of the _Cavalier -_ but not before taking the eye of her new captain. Undoubtedly, those men were lucky enough to not know his identity, but Anthony had never been very lucky. 

Laufey seemed to read through Anthony, to see all of his fears surfacing. His smirk stretched. "I do hope the accommodations are to your liking." 

With that, Anthony was pulled away to the burning sun of the deck and Captain Laufey gently closed the door to his quarters. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a name!! :) Please let me know what you thought!


	4. Or Perhaps Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony, now on the second day of his punishment and regrettably not alone, has not enough distraction for his mind. What exactly is Laufey, after all?

* * *

_"Grr,_ this is pure foolishness." 

"Aye, but ye be th' reason, Grim." 

"Hush it, Gibbs." 

"Don't ye be tellin' me t' _hush,_ git." 

"Oi! 'ad ye not been _pushin' - "_

"Me? Sun must've already rotted yer skull, Grim. It ain't me yer fury should be wif - it's dat _boy_ strapped t' ye starboard." 

"Aye!" Grim groused, jerking wildly. "Bloody fool! Inciting us like 'at. He should be strap'd 'ere _alone."_

Anthony kept his lips pressed together tightly. His fury had already gotten him into this mess once - he certainly did not need his mouth furthering his torment. Grim and Gibbs blathered on without him, regardless, once their goading was met with prolonged silence. After what felt like ages, they simmered down to silence. Anthony allowed his eyelids to flutter close in relief. 

This was the beginning of their second day strapped to the main mast, the three of them. Anthony hung his chin to his chest, stretching his neck. He felt quite spoiled to have his hat to block the most of the sun's heated gaze. Gibbs and Grim weren't so lucky - Gibbs at least had his ruddy bandana, but Grim (whom Anthony had stolen his hat _back_ from) was without any reprieve. 

For all their punishment, Anthony seemed to be taking it the best for being so green. The older men grumbled and groused at each passing pirate, bartering for drops of rum or flakes of bread. Anthony ignored the passersby, leaving them at that. His view consisted of either his worn boots or the rolling waves of the ocean. Gibbs faced the captain's quarters beside him, and Grim the bow - for whatever deity blessed Anthony with his lovely view he was grateful. Had he been forced to face the captain's door, opening each time a man called upon him or brought meals, would have had the inventor's stomach churning. To possibly catch a glimpse of him was too much. 

It was odd, Anthony mused, to have such an obviously cultured man as a pirate. A captain, no less. Those men were feared beyond all else, even the devil himself held no match to the stories and lore told of the demons at sea. Anthony himself had heard some from his times spent in the bars, cradling drink after drink. 

Blackbeard was said to have smoke billowing from his hat, alight with the very flames of hell. Captain Kidd was amongst the most ruthless, murdering and slaying to leave none in his wake. But above all were the tales of Dread Pirate Laufey. 

He was bloodthirsty, calculating - much like Kidd, he never left men to tell tales. Everything was either viewed or legend, with not much between and even less to garner as truth. For those who managed to escape it wasn't for the Captain's lack of trying. 

Stories of burning wreckages both man o' war and schooner alike were discovered days later, their embers simmering in the flesh of her crew. Always the captain's head sat atop a spire latched to the helm, no survivor to be found. Laufey had a penchant for the gruesome. 

Worse still were the stories Anthony heard from workers on his father's plantation. Those men spoke of voodoo and witchcraft that had to be legend, they were so farfetched - slaves disappearing in the night only to be found burned and decapitated or drained so completely of blood that even their skin lightened in pallor. Stories of these circled amongst the workers for months before reaching the ears of his father by a trader leaving the plantation. Several of his sailors had disappeared at night, presumably to the nearby town for consort, only to be found by daylight in pieces near the shore - their heads missing with no trace of blood. 

The stories of blood draining night creatures surfaced immediately and frightened the men into a curfew, ending work earlier than ever - and fueling the nightmares of a too curious and young Anthony. The only connection Laufey had to the rituals was a noted time he spent in the Caribbean, his ship docked half a league from the local settlement where the stories originated from. 

Anthony swallowed. This _couldn't_ be the same man; just his appearance alone was enough to stifle his fears. His face looked far too young for his title, for Anthony was willing to bet the captain wasn't much older than he. Still, his stories were dire. 

He rested his head back against the worn wood of the mast. However, he was alive, and so were the remaining crew of the _Cavalier._ That negated the first rumor - _Laufey leaves no living._ For the others, he had no answer. The few times Laufey left his cabin to head to the deck or helm, he wore his long overcoat and wide brimmed hat. No sunlight touched his face beneath. Perhaps, with this rumor, Anthony had a suitable answer for his fair complexion - 

Gibbs whispered something to Grim as they both stiffened on either side of him, drawing Anthony from his thoughts. He tilted his head slowly, straining his eyes around the mast. Fresh sweat broke out across his brow and neck when he spied the very captain he had been dwelling on slipping from his cabin. 

_Without his coat._

Anthony pressed back against his portion of the mast, his heart suddenly racing. He wasn't much prone to fear, but this man struck the fear of all into him, and rightfully so. At least the rumored _ambrogio_ was just that. 

The entire atmosphere of the ship and crew shifted as he milled about, boots clicking smartly on the deck. He walked away from Anthony, presumably to the helm, making the inventor relax. His eyes drifted back to the sea again, to the white crest of the water breaking free from the ship's course. 

_Ambrogio_ \- immortal, to his culture. The first hunter by the same name became the first one by word of legend. Alone to hunt the darkness only to be sought by it. Anthony had heard tales of those shifting to his form and taking his name. _Ambrogio_ in Italy, Empusa to the Greek, Lilitu to Persians - or _vampyre,_ as these sailors would be more familiar with. 

Lost amongst his thoughts, Anthony failed to notice the shift in light, the tell-tale prickle of personal space invasion creeping up his neck before it was too late. 

"How do you fare?" Anthony jolted, snapping his gaze from the ocean to his left, where Captain Laufey leaned casually. As if he had been there the entire time. 

"As well as dried leather," Anthony answered, his throat dry. It added to his wry tone, which drew a small smirk from the captain. "Which I imagine I shall become before long." 

"Ah, perhaps," the pirate answered, his lips still quirked. His eyes seemed to glow beneath his hat. "You sound parched." 

Anthony worked his throat, drawing up what little spittle he could to aide the burning sensation caused by speaking. "Quite astute of you." 

Laufey's smirk only grew to show rows of too white teeth. "I have been told to be too clever for my own skin." 

"As have I," Anthony answered, smiling - the action split his dried and chapped lips, but he refused to flinch. "I am sure you can see the situation I am in, yes? Not exactly the height of my trip." 

"This is true," the captain drawled. He appeared to lean heavily against the mast, his side pressing against the rough rope tying Anthony down. It tightened against his chest, drawing a low cough from his bruised ribs. Laufey made no motion to shift his weight. 

"A request, if I may," Laufey said instead. Anthony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Certainly, Captain!" He managed, cheerfully. He caught a flash of white teeth again above him. 

"Do try _not_ to rile up my men," the captain began. His tone was light, almost as if discussing weather and bored of it, but Anthony could sense an edge amongst the layers. "I cannot always be counted on to swoop in." 

Anthony snapped his head up to meet the bored gaze of the captain. Defiance and anger burned his belly. "Do you find me so incompetent that I need saving from a _pirate?"_

Laufey moved far too swift for a man as relaxed as he was - Anthony's hat was snatched from his brow and pressed between them, shielding the pair from the eyes of the crew. Anthony assumed they turned a blind eye more than naught. 

Anthony felt Laufey's cool breath against his cheek, oddly soothing against his heated skin. "No, not by a mere _pirate,"_ he hissed. A chill raced down Anthony's spine. "For I am much more than a mere _pirate._ That you shall know." 

Laufey pushed away to his full height. The shadow cast from his hat brightened his eyes - the deep, swirling green poisoned Anthony. Had he not developed his tolerance to sea life, he knew he would be reeling. The captain, without his overcoat, was trim and lean, his chest half exposed from the open drawstring of his tunic. He wore what Jack had the last day Anthony saw him - white open tunic and dark leather pants, only the captain tied an emerald sash around his waist with a thin cutlass. Anthony swallowed. 

Laufey smirked, tall and lean and far too pale. "I imagine that mind of yours understands quite well." 

Anthony frowned. _"Quite."_

"Wonderful," Laufey said, running a loose hand over the soiled feather of Anthony's hat. The sleeves of his tunic were cuffed at the elbows to expose his forearms, decorated at the wrist with several different bangles and leather cuffs. With an action in complete contradiction of the threat Anthony received, Laufey rested the hat back over his sweat soaked hair with a gentleness that was startling. Anthony blinked up at him, knowing the confusion was evident on his face. Laufey merely raised an eyebrow in amusement. 

"I shall send Goldie to you," Laufey said. "Do try not to pass out before, yeah?" 

Anthony snorted as the captain walked away, too graceful for a pirate. Gibbs and Grim were suspiciously quiet beside him, but Anthony was grateful. He did not want an earful again from them so soon, especially one about the obvious kindnesses their captain was bestowing to a prisoner. 

Goldie came by later, goblet and pail in tow. Anthony was first, careful not to drink too heartily. Heat exhaustion had not yet set in, but he did not want fate tempted. Gibbs was next, and then Grim. Goldie snapped back when the pirates demanded more of him, the fire in the old man still burning brightly. Anthony couldn't help but smile to himself. 

"Take care, mate," Goldie said gently, tapping his chin and gifting more water. "Jus' one mor' day." 

Anthony nodded, and Goldie left. Before long, the deck became nearly deserted as the sun fell. The oil lamp above the trio glowed brightly in the clear sky. Gibbs whined about his stiff neck, the only human sound on the deck. To Anthony's right, the captain's cabin was well lit. 

A chill settled over Anthony as the moon rose higher and higher. Warmth escaped him desperately in the ever present breeze, where only hours before it had claimed him thoroughly. The shift in temperature had not been so bad the first night, but now found Anthony shivering. Grim snored loudly every so often, startling Gibbs loudly from what sleep he had gained. 

Anthony envied them their reprieve. For the second night, Anthony could not sleep. Not that sleep had been kind to him since his capture, but nearly two days without and standing strapped to a mast in the searingly unforgiving sun had taken its toll. 

The rocking of the ship was soothing. Above Anthony the sails moved slowly, fabric softly whispering against itself and rope rustling in the wind. He felt his eyelids drooping, heavy and dry from unrelenting wind. His throat burned from inhaling saltwater, his chest tight and uncomfortable from hours of binding. Perhaps, should he close his eyes, the night would pass? 

Anthony rested his chin on his chest, his head hanging low. After a moment of blissful darkness, his hat fluttered to the deck. He didn't care - the wind tousled his sweaty hair and relieved more tension in his shoulders than he realized he held. The shivering, however, didn't stop. 

Slowly he drifted away, the rocking and soundlessness of the ship acting as a balm. The cold left him numb as he settled further against the mast. His feet slid forward as they refused to carry him any longer, only to stop far before reaching anything of consequence. 

A warmth enveloped Anthony and finally, he slept. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this nonsense? Multiple updates in a week? Whaaaaaat? :P Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know those tasty thoughts, for they keep away the scurvy. :3


	5. Heat Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony awakens in his cot, unsure of how or when he got there. Goldie knows but isn't exactly sharing.

* * *

The usual light blue of the waves turned dark, nearly black. Anthony leaned over the rail of the ship, his sternum pressed against the polished wood. All around him he heard shrieks and howls from wind and mortal alike - still the ship carried on unrelenting and determined. 

There was something, somewhere, he needed to be, but it seemed his palms were glued to the supple wood. A quick glance showed the wood stained emerald, and Anthony felt his eyes widen as he watched the paint curl and peel itself away. It moved rapidly towards his hands, but they still would not move. 

The paint pulled back wood and nail the more Anthony struggled. Heat flared behind him, and without a glance he knew. _Fire._ He heard yelling, a distinct voice that he had lost all hope of hearing again. 

_"Pirates!"_ Anthony looked sharply toward the voice and saw Jack, standing proud at the helm with cutlass in hand. He raised a pistol over Anthony's head and fired. Smoke billowed around Anthony as if on cue. Jack's shot started it all, and then he was swarmed. 

Bodies tumbled behind him as the fire raged. Anthony still pulled and pulled against whatever force kept him in place. The wood and paint and nails crept ever closer, but still he could not move. He called out for Jack desperately, pitching his voice higher and louder than the shrieks behind him. 

A hand dropped gently around his wrist, cool and comforting against the fire and death. When Anthony turned to look, however, his blood ran cold. 

_"What mess have you caught yourself in, I wonder?"_ Laufey, his teeth sharp and glistening in the fire light and his eyes swimming, shimmering. Anthony couldn't move - he couldn't get to Jack and he couldn't save himself and _dammit_ this demon of a man _wouldn't let go -_

Anthony woke with a jolt. He gasped, his chest heaving, sucking in as much air as he could. It was damp and salty, but not hot. He blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. 

He couldn't feel the sun on him - in fact, there was hardly any light around at all. Anthony blinked again and rubbed his face, shivering slightly as his duvet fell around him. Wait - _duvet?_

Again, there was no sun. No wind, either. He wasn't standing, but sitting on what felt incredibly plush after the long hours he spent on his feet strapped to the mast. However, he no longer was. 

Finally his eyes adjusted to the lighting to see that he was indeed on his cot. The porthole above it had a rag tied over it, blocking the sun. He could hear the sounds of the crew above on the deck, feet stamping and voices calling and canvas snapping. 

Had it all been a dream? The kidnapping, the fight, the hat, the punishment to the mast - was he on the _Cavalier?_ Would Bill be just on the other side of this privacy curtain, humming a shanty and stirring stew with all his belly intact? Would Jack be above, leading the crew and turning the helm and maybe, if Anthony was particularly charming, he could hold the helm again with Jack pressed behind him - 

The waking smile brought by his thoughts reminded him that he had never, and would never be, _quite_ that lucky. His lips split harshly from the movement and fresh blood leaked from the cracks. The soreness of his chest and ribs settled in, and his head still throbbed from the hours spent in unrelenting sunlight after taking a brutal beating that spun his world to Cuba and back. 

Worse still, he couldn't stop _shivering._

Anthony sighed and drew his duvet further up his chest. "Goldie?" He whispered, praying to whatever still cared for him that the old man's hearing wasn't all gone. 

Silence answered him, and Anthony sighed. He would try again only once. _"Goldie?"_ His throat allowed a bit more sound. There was silence again as Anthony waited with baited breath, then sighed when he heard footsteps. The curtain rustled for just a moment before Goldie's face popped into view. 

"Well ahoy, mate!" He called cheerfully, those gold teeth brighter than ever. The pirate pushed the curtain back further and dragged in a stool. "How ye be farin'?" 

Anthony smiled back only to grimace when his lips stretched too far. "Better, I suppose. Goldie, how did I - " Anthony was interrupted by a terrible coughing fit. His ribs and throat only ached more when it finally subsided, forcing him to draw in shallow breathes. "How did I get here?" 

Goldie's brow drew together with obvious concern. "Oi, Tony - ye dun' be lookin' good." 

Anthony waved a dismissive hand. Not knowing how he came to be freed of the mast was irritating him. "Why am I here?" 

Goldie opened his mouth to answer but stopped. After an agonizing moment he seemed to think better of it and crossed his arms over his chest. "I dun' like 'is one _bit._ Ye look pale, mate. Ev'n wif all the sun ye got." 

"It's just heat fever," Anthony said quickly, his tone threatening to show his annoyance. That didn't seem to convince Goldie of his wellbeing - in fact, the pirate's frown deepened. "Goldie - " 

"Tony, wait," he held up a hand that made Anthony groan, which caused another coughing fit. Goldie sighed and stood up, leaving Anthony's little alcove and heading for the galley. He was back a moment later with a tin cup and rag. The slight breeze he caused while moving made Anthony shiver again. 

Goldie drew his stool up and angled the cup to Anthony's lips. "Drink, lad." 

The thought of water felt like finding a fortune - Anthony nodded and licked his dry lips. The cup was empty in only seconds. 

The inventor rested back against his pillow, propping himself on his elbows. "Thank you, Goldie. Now how did I..." Anthony yawned, stretching his mouth wide. After the water his lips weren't quite as chapped, but Goldie passed over a gelatinous balm that tasted vaguely sweet. 

"Plenty o' time fer talkin' later, Tony," Goldie said quietly. He was smiling softly, but Anthony could still see the traces of worry in his expression. 

"Goldie...what?" He managed, slurring his words and dropping back heavily on his cot. "I don't...understand..." 

"Git some rest, mate." Goldie's voice drifted further and further away. Anthony blinked, his mind feeling foggy as his body sank further and further into his cot. A warmth settled over his forehead - Goldie's rag, his mind supplied. 

Anthony lazily felt like there was more than just water in that cup. 

* * *

Goldie left the rag on Tony's face as he slept, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Aye, mate. Ye be fine soon enuff. Jus' need a word wif th' cap'n." 

The old man rose, popping his back and knees with a sigh. He was getting far too old for the sea life, but oh did he _love_ it. It took him far across the world to see new sights and lives and people. He had met some interesting folk on his journey, one of the better being the young man sleeping on the cot behind him. 

Young Tony reminded him of his nephew, the child of his late sister. He was smart and scrappy and the sort that never stopped fighting for what he felt was right. Goldie knew there was something special about the genius (obviously, he was nothing less) when Gibbs dropped him down the hole. It took the better part of a few days to hear that voice, but he knew immediately what Tony was capable of. Goldie was doing him a favour - one Tony wasn't yet aware of, but Goldie was keeping to himself about it. 

Goldie felt remorse for having to drug the drink Tony had, but he needed the rest. His night had been fitful; Goldie listened to his tossing and wheezing, never moving from his perch outside the curtain. Captain's orders. Now, he needed to make his report. 

Goldie slid the curtain close and hobbled up the stairs to the deck, taking each step slowly. He inhaled deeply once the wind hit his face, smiling. Beautiful days like these kept him here, meeting people like Tony and Captain. 

He scanned the deck looking for Laufey. Grim and Gibbs were huddled together near the portside cannons, attempting to appear busy instead of actually working. Goldie snorted - if they weren't downright dog shite, he'd demand they thank Tony for falling ill and ending their punishment early. The Captain, Goldie knew, wasn't pleased by their actions. Goldie agreed. 

Not seeing Laufey, Goldie started for his quarters. He smiled and nodded at the younger crew when they grinned at him. A few stopped him to ask about Tony, surprising the old man. Pirates followed strength and riches - Tony must have proved himself quite well with his skirmish days before. Goldie answered vaguely and continued on. 

"Oi, Goldie!" The old man stopped and turned, looking for his caller. "Up 'ere, old man!" 

Goldie growled and looked towards the helm. "Wot, Penn?" 

The blond pirate grinned. "Who're ye lookin' for?" 

"Th' Cap't!" He hollered, started for the stairs to the helm. "'E up thar?" 

"Aye!" Penn called back. He pointed pass Goldie and towards the main mast. "Higher up, the likes!" 

"Crow's nest?" Penn nodded, making Goldie grumble. "Git 'im, would ye?" 

Penn tossed back his head and laughed, a loud and rich sound. "Aye, mate!" Goldie settled against a crate as Penn swung onto the nearest knot of rigging. He climbed higher and higher until Goldie couldn't see him anymore. So he waited. 

A minute later, Captain Laufey dropped down from the nest using one of the many pulley systems he had installed for just that reason of ease of movement. The higher the better, it seemed - Laufey sat up there when he was troubled. Only Goldie knew the true nature of his climbs from his years of service. The captain was without hat nor overcoat, standing without decoration. The descent whipped his long black hair around his shoulders, making Goldie _tsk._

"Ye should start pullin' that back, Cap'n," he started as Laufey walked towards him. "Might be mistaken for a lass." 

Laufey smirked, pushing a hand through his locks and shaking out a knot. "I shall take it to heart, Goldie." 

Goldie shrugged but smiled fondly. "Do as ye like, I s'pose." 

"I shall," Laufey answered. There was no trace of whatever bothered the captain on his face, but Goldie believed he could guess. He rested his hands on his hips and tilted his chin in contemplation. "Why have you summoned me?" 

Goldie's soft smile dipped. "He's as ye said." 

Laufey's smirk fell away, his light humour gone. "We shall speak in my quarters." 

Goldie nodded and paused for Laufey to lead. Penn dropped back down as they reached his door and saluted. Goldie nodded his thanks before slipping into the quarters himself. 

Laufey sat down and kicked a chair over for Goldie. "Explain." 

Goldie sat down with a sigh. "'E didn't rest well. Murmured and tossed all night, woke up like th' dead. Paler 'an ye, act'lly. Can't stop coughin'." 

Laufey steepled his fingers in front of his face. "What do you suggest?" 

Goldie sighed again. "Well, I drugged 'im." 

Laufey snorted and quirked a smile. "Excellent direction." 

"Oi, Cap'n," Goldie defended, feeling his neck flush. "Would ye 'ave dun diff'rent?" 

The captain didn't hesitate. "No." 

The older pirate huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "A'ight, then!" 

Laufey smirked and nodded gracefully. "I always trust your judgement, Goldie." 

Goldie nodded and smiled. "Good. Now, 'bout our ward." 

"It appears he has suffered heat fever," Laufey answered. 

"'E said 'at, but me thinks there be more t' it." 

"Perhaps I should have allowed him reprieve to relax; no doubt the blows to his head have yet to heal." Laufey tapped his chin. "Come - I want to see his state for myself." 

Goldie rose and followed his captain to the deck and then below, pulling the curtain aside to allow Laufey into Tony's cramped space. Somehow, when it was just he and Tony, the room seemed nearly homely. With Laufey's strong presence and height dominating the alcove, Goldie was surprised that the lad didn't wake with a start. 

His brown hair stuck up at odd angles from his fitful sleep, the duvet down near his waist and his tunic pulled over his ribs. There was light bruising from the ropes that infuriated Goldie immediately. "Wot idiot tied th' rope?" 

"Mr. Crass and Mr. Tenny," Laufey answered. The rag Goldie left over Tony's face had fallen to the side. Laufey carefully replaced it over his eyes; Tony sighed. "I shall speak with them." 

Goldie nodded as he watched Laufey move. Silently the captain replaced the genius' tunic and duvet, lightly grazing his fingertips over Tony's chin as he finished. "He is in need of a shave," Laufey observed. "Perhaps time on land would do him some good." 

Goldie nodded. "Aye. Wot d' ye 'ave in mind?" 

* * *

Heat fever, Anthony decided, played some peculiar games on one's subconscious. He drifted in and out of consciousness over several hours, catching bits and pieces of conversation and surrounding. 

He spent most of his time either too hot or too cold, and at one particular moment tossed his duvet aside with a huff. Anthony drifted away again, not caring that the rag Goldie had left him slid down. 

Anthony stirred slightly upon hearing voices. They were low but recognizable, and soothing. The murmurs grew until he vaguely heard his curtain being pulled aside. The voices were louder now, and Anthony identified Goldie immediately after the rag over his eyes had been replaced. The touch was soothing and made him sigh. 

A second voice answered, one low and gentle. Anthony's ears felt clogged - he worked his throat to rid the pressure as more touches ghosted over his skin. The duvet was back to his chin; a lingering touch trailed there, just a moment long enough that Anthony could identify the speaker. 

"He is in need of a shave." _Laufey._ "Perhaps time on land would do him some good." 

"Aye. Wot d' ye 'ave in mind?" 

Anthony unintentionally shivered when Laufey pulled away. "A hunt, of sorts." 

Goldie groaned. "Ye dun' mean _Cuba?"_

"Aye." There was a soft rustling as a weight settled on the edge of Anthony's cot. Even as his head spun he was alert enough to dare not move. 

"Cap'n," Goldie said sternly. "Need I _remind_ ye o' th' _last_ voyage to Cuba? Why, I'd be bettin' the rest 'o me good teeth thar still be parchment wif yer face scrawled ov'r it." 

"Aye," Laufey answered. The weight on the edge of Anthony's cot shifted enough for Anthony to loll his head on his pillow. Squinting, he looked down the space between cheek and nose to find Laufey partially reclined across his cot, as a cat would. Indifferent dominance. The captain certainly had some gall; Anthony felt a headache coming on from his squinting. "I would as well, were we betting men." 

"Aye." 

"However, there is a shop - " 

"Oh _lord."_

_"Goldie,"_ Laufey said, his tone hardening. He sat up and out of Anthony's view. "We both are aware of the stock of medicinals aboard _Sleipnir._ There are herbs I can procure that will cure his ailments." 

"Aye, aye," the old pirate groused. There was a weighted pause that lasted long enough for Anthony to slightly doze off. "Loki, is it worth th' risk?" 

"Perhaps not," the captain answered, his tone softening. Anthony felt eyes on him and forced himself not to squirm, alert again from hearing the captain's name. _Loki._ "But perhaps so. I was hopeless, once." 

Goldie chuckled, warm and deep. "Aye, I recall. Dread Pirate Cap'n Laufey, still as darin' and reckless as ev'r. Ye best not git yerself killed, mate." 

Loki chuckled. "Fear for the fool who tries, not I." He stood up from Anthony's cot, his proximity having become a comfort that perplexed the genius. "Stay with him until he wakes. I shall make the preparations for departure." 

"Aye," Goldie answered. Anthony's curtain fluttered behind the captain as he left. Goldie pulled his stool up again and settled in. 

"See, lad?" The pirate said; Anthony wasn't sure if he should answer. "Told ye 'e 'ad yer back." 

Anthony didn't answer out of confusion - he doubted his sleeping act had fooled Goldie let alone the captain. Goldie began to hum a shanty that Anthony was particularly fond of, and before long even his racing thoughts of the captain couldn't keep him from slumber. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you thought! We're seeing more and more of the captain, as is Anthony - he actually has a name besides 'pirate' or 'captain' or 'Laufey' or 'demon man'. What do ya think??


	6. On the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony listens to gossip amongst the crew about the captain that causes him to wonder - while Goldie offers a bit of good advice.

* * *

_Sleipnir_ and her crew were nearly a week out from Cuba. Anthony spent those days drifting in and out of consciousness with Goldie by his side. The old man left only to feed the crew each day, being sure to pass Anthony water that would induce sleep. The genius didn't mind so much after being explained what he was drinking. That first time made him weary of any consumables for several days. 

During the days, Anthony managed to stay awake for a few scarce hours. Goldie never approved - he would rather Anthony stay asleep to save his strength. Forcing himself to keep awake during days of travel wasn't worth the tax on his body. Anthony, for all his fever-induced mindset, found his worries hilarious and giggled away most of them. Goldie just smiled and sighed, his expression humourous but still tinged with enough worry that Anthony could pick up on it. 

For the few times Goldie was off to feed the crew and Anthony was awake, the inventor pulled down the rag over the porthole and pushed the glass open. He sat on the upper floor below deck, putting his window well above the deep waters of the ocean. However, the spray still wormed its way in and Anthony reveled in the coolness against his heated face. 

The fresh air did well for his sore lungs, tired from coughing and breathing stale air below deck. With the wind, voices traveled. Crew who routinely polished the cannons and swivel guns chatted amongst themselves rudimentary topics, the like that greatly interested Anthony. Goldie had done well to explain minor workings of the ship, but these men had hands on experience. 

Anthony listened to which oils to use to polish the guns, how to tie the knots to keep the cannon balls from spilling out across the deck - as well as how to sabotage those very same knots for when rotation put Gibbs or Grim on that specific duty. 

It was during a fever-induced scheme for revenge when Anthony heard his first draw of gossip. 

"Aye, Tenny - 'ave a minute?" 

"Wot? It better be damned quick - Cap'n 'as been ridin' us hard t' git t' Cuba. 'E dun want no slackin'." Anthony's ears perked. A quick glance showed Goldie still in the galley. He slid as close to the porthole as possible. 

"Aye, aye," the other dismissed. "Doesn't 'e seem a bit... _off?"_

A pause. "Wot in bloody 'ell are ye prattling on about?" 

"The Cap'n!" The other hissed, his voice dropping low. 

"Wot _about_ the Cap'n?" Tenny answered, his voice dark. 

"E's been spendin' more time on deck." 

"Well, he _is_ the Cap'n. 'E goes where 'e damn well pleases." Anthony rolled his eyes at Tenny's blatantly dry tone. The other pirate smacked his lips. 

"Aye, but when does _ours_ go _below deck?"_

Anthony swallowed, working his perpetually dry throat. _To see him._ The rest of the pirates' conversation drifted away as Anthony fell into his own thoughts. That comment reminded him of something he had thought was a dream at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure. 

Were his timeline to be correct (as correct as his fevered mind could stand), it was two days after Anthony heard Goldie and Laufey decide to sail for Cuba. A terrible storm rocked the ship for the majority of the day and well into the night. Anthony had hoped to sleep through most of it, but the shifting and jostling was too much for his weakened state. Goldie stayed as near as possible with a pail should Anthony need it. The inventor had needed it quite often. 

Anthony had been pleased to see that the bolted down furniture in his alcove didn't move in the slightest; before the worse of the storm hit Goldie had thrown all loose items into a small blocked off area that looked identical to a pig pin made with long slates of wood. It held quite well - one particular wave turned _Sleipnir_ nearly on her side. Anthony held to his cot for purchase as Goldie did the same - they watched as Anthony's bag slid to the opposite side of the hull. It nearly reached before the ship lurched again, this time in the opposite direction, sending the bag back to its previous location. Goldie strapped it to the leg of the cot with twine. 

Those pitches were the worse of the storm - after settling, Anthony shared a small laugh with Goldie and decided that his bag's contents would be better off inside the locked drawers of the desk. The old man agreed with a nod and said he would fetch the key after the storm passed. Anthony laid back down and faced the hull of the ship. Deciding to unpack suddenly made his entire situation all the more real. It brought a moment of clarity in his fevered haze that Anthony would rather not have. The rocking of the ship put him to sleep uneasily. 

What had felt like hours later, voices woke him. Stamping of feet as the crew shifted, those soaked from the storm grousing about the pitiful weather, echoed in the hull as they sent off their replacements. It was too loud for several minutes until it all suddenly ended. Anthony sighed and turned over, drawing his duvet higher. 

"Goldie." Anthony's eyes snapped open. He held his breath, his heart suddenly racing, and laid incredibly still. 

Laufey's call was answered with silence. _"Goldie."_

"Ah - wot, wot?" The old man, Anthony knew, was sitting outside his curtain on his stool. He yawned loudly. "Apologies, Cap'n. Seemed t' 'ave drifted off." 

"So it seems," the captain answered, a touch of fondness in his tone. "Get some rest, Goldie. I shall take your place." 

"But Cap'n!" Goldie immediately began to protest. "Ye must be outta yer mind! Why, yer soaked t' the bone! Ain't no way 'n _hell_ yer sittin' 'ere in 'at state." 

"Your voice carries, Goldie," the captain answered, his tone still as soft as before. Goldie grumbled for a moment before he huffed. 

"Ain't no _way_ I'mma let ye sit 'ere like 'at. Before long, ye'd be worse off 'an _Tony."_

"Get to sleep, Goldie," Laufey answered. "That _is_ an order." 

There was silence - Anthony had imagined Goldie staring down the captain - before the older pirate shuffled around and stood from his stool. "Aye, aye - but jus' fer a bit!" 

"Certainly," Laufey said. Goldie mumbled a bit more before Anthony could hear him no more. After a moment of blessed silence, the curtain shifted aside. Anthony struggled to keep his breathing even. 

"Pardon me a moment - I wish to merely borrow your coat hook," Laufey said softly. Anthony continued to feign sleep as he heard the heavy fabric of the overcoat slide from Laufey's form, resting on Anthony's hook with a wet _squelch._ Small drops of water fell to the floor audibly; Goldie hadn't been lying about the captain's condition. 

Anthony had his back to the curtain as the captain moved quietly. He couldn't help but feel the entire situation to be strangely intimate - the thought brought a rapid heat to his neck and face that he fought with his entire will to cease. 

No sooner had it ended did Anthony feel a hand on his shoulder. Even through his duvet it was far too cold. Anthony didn't move as Laufey's hand drifted to his forehead, the touch comforting against his fever heated skin. It rested there for only a moment; Laufey leaned over Anthony just slightly to keep balance as the ship rocked from a rogue wave, causing the captain to _tsk_ about poor handling. 

"We shall arrive in Cuba soon," the captain whispered, drawing his hand back and stepping away from Anthony. "For now, rest well. I will not be far." 

The curtain closed again and Anthony listened as Laufey took Goldie's stool. He was moderately alone with his thoughts and couldn't help but still feel the captain's soothing hand against his skin. Before long, sleep had claimed him again. 

Now, listening to the dregs of shifting conversation through his porthole, Anthony had to begin to wonder himself. It most certainly had not been a dream, but why _did_ Laufey sit below deck outside of his curtain? Anthony wanted to ask Goldie, nearly certain that he would have an answer, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not that Goldie would answer the question even if he _did_ ask - he was trusted by Laufey for good reason. Hardly any talk left his mouth, and on more than one occasion Anthony heard him silence the rest of the crew from it. 

_"If'n it be yer's t' know ye would!"_ Anthony couldn't help but grin; Goldie was certainly still surprising. 

Anthony shivered and decided that would be enough air for the day. He pushed the porthole glass in and locked it, tying the rag back up to block the sun. His alcove fell blissfully dark, drawing a yawn from him. In the days since his fever had began, Anthony did little else than sleep and drink. Were he on land, the inventor had no doubt that his body would have already cured itself. Weeks, now months for Anthony, did odd things to a body's natural immunity. Anthony held little doubt that his prolonged fever was because of the wetness of the air and his surroundings, but Goldie was trying his best to keep him well fed. It was working, and with hardly a day left at sea, Anthony felt optimistic about a full recovery. 

If only he could stop shivering, then he would feel himself again. 

Anthony allowed his thoughts to drift back to Laufey. There was absolutely something odd about the man besides just his outward appearance and obviously cultured upbringing. Anthony had seen more than he would like of his ruthless side - several of his fevered dreams revolved around Jack's injury - but it still didn't seem quite right. 

Laufey's reputation was full of bloodthirsty tales of murder and mayhem and ruthlessness to make even Blackbeard quiver. Yet, Anthony had seen more kindnesses than naught from the captain. Stories say he burns all ships, yet the _Cavalier_ is assumed to still be afloat with most of her crew still living. Anthony refused to believe anything less - that Jack was alive and well and perhaps searching for him were his only options. 

Still, Laufey was an enigma. One thing Anthony heard seemed to contradict another; murmurings from the crew that so well respected him shed new light. Goldie, the oldest of the crew and obviously with Laufey the longest, held fountains of knowledge about the captain but was quite scant with sharing. 

As if on cue, Goldie pushed aside Anthony's curtain and smiled. "Good t' see ye awake, mate." 

Anthony grinned, feeling his face flush. Goldie always had a knack for appearing the second his thoughts dwelled too long on their captain. "Thanks, Goldie." 

"Nay, no _thanks,"_ Goldie answered, kicking his stool closer to Anthony's cot. The genius began to think of that as Goldie's spot, now. "We've been worried, lad. Seein' ye up an' makin' _sense_ is good!" 

Anthony's cheeks darken their flush. "Well, I suppose that's true." 

"Aye - for all yer genius, listenin' t' ye prattle on 'bout seagulls gits t' me," Goldie teased, a twinkle in his eye. Anthony dipped his head slightly and scratched the back of his neck. He felt sheepish; usually he hid quite well, but Goldie was becoming better and better at announcing his shortcomings. He supposed that was his talent as a pirate. Perhaps that was why Laufey and he were so close - he kept that wonder of a man _grounded._

"'Ere, Tony." Anthony looked over to see Goldie holding out a hunk of cheese and salted pork. "Cap'n thinks yer belly can handle 'is, an' I agree." 

Anthony nodded and took the provisions, taking a soft nibble of the cheese as Goldie began to eat his own. They were silent, companionable, as they each ate. Anthony ate much slower than usual, testing his stomach. His diet had consisted of broth and biscuits for the better portion of the week - rightly so, as with nearly each strong lurch of the ship his stomach's contents went with it. 

Nothing wanted to come back immediately, prompting Anthony to finish the cheese and move to the salted pork. Whatever spices had been used to dry the meat was surprisingly good. Anthony opened his mouth to say so when Goldie began to speak. 

"Tony," he said quietly, his food gone and his tone strange. Anthony nodded to show his attention. Goldie stared beyond him - Anthony bet even beyond the ship - as he began to speak, his voice low. 

"Sumthin' ye should know about Cap'n, 'bout why 'e is th' way 'e is." Goldie immediately had Anthony's undivided attention. "We've sailed 'ese waters fer some time, an' I've seen 'ore 'an my share o' betrayal. Gave some, too." He leaned back, kicking his feet under Anthony's cot and leaning against the desk. 

"Cap'n 'as seen it 'imself, too. Aye, 'e wasn't much older 'an ye when it 'appened. Wot exactly, ain't mine t' share - but I will give ye some advice. Ye do wif it as ye will, but methinks yer not one t' ignore curiosities." Goldie smirked, catching Anthony's eye. Anthony decided then that Goldie must be some sort of otherworldly being - either that or he wasn't as perfect at concealing himself as he thought. 

"Will you tell me how I got back to my cot?" Anthony asked quietly. Goldie nodded, that twinkle back to his eye. 

"Aye, Tony; I knew ye was special before ye opened yer mouth, lad," Goldie said. He smiled brightly, his teeth flashing in the poor lighting of the hull. "An' the Cap'n knew it, too. 'E's been lookin' fer someone like ye awhile, now. Knowledge will come wif time, but fer now, a bit o' advice." 

Anthony nodded, his pork sitting forgotten on his knee as he listened to the old man before him. Goldie's smile turned to a grin as he raised his eyebrows. "Ye'd better eat, lad." 

Anthony nodded and snatched his pork back up again, taking a larger-than-necessary bite. Goldie chuckled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Good; now, where was I? Aye, aye - the Cap'n 'as 'ad more 'an enough shite luck fer his years. Shite situations, shite outcomes, shite _people._ I've seen th' worse o' it. At Cuba, methinks ye'll be graced t' see it yerself. But heed me words - yer _diff'rent._ I see it, ev'n some o' th' bloody _crew_ sees it. Betrayal makes th' strongest o' men change, 'nary fer th' better. The Cap'n be one o' 'em." 

Goldie paused, letting his words sink in. "I suggest ye don't be more _regret_ fer me Cap'n." 

Anthony swallowed - _hard._ "He has not always been this, has he? A pirate, I mean." 

Goldie shook his head. "Aye. I be one o' few wot remember." 

"I can tell," Anthony answered. "He is far too _cultured_ for this world. I wonder what happened to make this his path." He glanced at Goldie meaningfully, hoping the old man would take the hint. Instead, he smiled. 

"I smell a trap, Tony," Goldie said with a wink. Anthony rolled his eyes and shoved the rest of his meal into his mouth, chewing to stop from answering. Goldie laughed and rubbed his chin. 

"Now, I s'pose I should git t' tellin' ye 'bout th' mast. It was th' Cap'n who freed ye early. I was settin' 'bout brewin' th' mornin' stew when 'e carried ye down. Said ye passed out - 'e could tell 'cause yer hat flew off an' ye 'nary flinched," Goldie said with a chuckle. Anthony blinked at him, trying to remember what happened. 

"I...remember the hat falling away," he said slowly. "It was cold, but then I was warm." 

"Aye, 'is coat. 'E carried ye down wrapped up in 'is coat. Another reason ye be diff'rent - only th' Cap'n wears 'is coat." Heat flared up Anthony's neck. He tried to tell himself it was from embarrassment, but if he couldn't trick Goldie how could he expect the same of himself? 

"I shall have to thank him," he muttered. Goldie nodded. 

"Aye, in time." He fell silent after that, resting his chin in his palm again. Anthony knew the old man was thinking, so he remained quiet. Goldie stood up and pushed his stool back. "'Ow 'bout we hit the deck, Tony? Th' air will do ye some good." 

Anthony, grateful for the distraction, nodded. Goldie helped him to his feet after he pulled on his boots and led him towards the stairs. Having the sun on his face warmed Anthony better than any duvet had below deck. The air was crisp, the sun marking mid afternoon. 

Goldie directed them towards the railing, nodding at a few sailors as Anthony pressed his sternum against the smooth wood. He stared out across the water, clear and deep blue from the storm days before. Wind whipped his hair into his eyes - he knew he needed to shave, but it seemed a trim was in order as well. 

"Careful o' th' edge," Goldie said, dropping a hand to Anthony's shoulder. Anthony nodded, feeling his head suddenly spin. He pushed back and stood closer to Goldie, not at all ashamed to use the old man as grounding. 

Anthony was glad to be above deck, to feel the sun on his face and the wind around him. His porthole was a nice reprieve for what it was, but nothing could compare to being out on the deck of a ship in the open sea. He shivered slightly when a sharp gust swirled his tunic, freeing it from where he had tucked it into his breeches. Goldie noticed and mentioned going back below deck when a shrill whistle caught his attention. The old man looked up towards the main mast and grinned, tossing his arm up in an exaggerated wave. Anthony turned to see who it was and immediately felt dizzy from the height. 

"Ahoy!" Goldie called, still supporting Anthony with one hand and waving the other. Anthony shook his head and looked again to just make out a figure towards the top. 

The main mast had a pulley system rigged on two sides that Anthony had plenty of time to admire during his punishment. He was curious for their use - why ever would anyone need to haul _anything_ hundreds of feet into the air? - and was pleasently surprised to get to see them in action. 

The man waving back to Goldie reached out and snatched at a pulley hook in midair, his weight pulling him down from the highest point to a comfortable bucket halfway down the mast. He repeated the action on two more pulleys and by the last, Captain Laufey gracefully joined Anthony and Goldie on the deck. 

Anthony was surprised to again see the captain without his hat and overcoat, his long black hair pulled back with green silk and tossed over one shoulder. He found the style becoming, highlighting the deep bone structure that was normally hidden behind hat and hair. 

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the captain said smoothly, his breathing hardly affected from his bout of activity. 

"Aye, Cap'n," Goldie said with a smile, nodding pointedly towards his hair. 

Laufey smirked slightly and tilted his chin. "I found your advice worthy." 

Anthony felt his brow furrow - surely there was something he was missing? Laufey turned towards him and nodded. "How are you faring?" 

"Ah, better, thank you," Anthony answered. Goldie grinned and nudged him. 

"Better 'an _better!_ 'E kept down th' pork an' cheese an' 'asn't fallen ov'rboard!" Goldie laughed at the horrified look Anthony threw his direction but the captain just chuckled. 

"I am glad to hear," he said calmly, drawing Anthony's attention away from Goldie's guffaws. The inventor cast a critical eye over the captain, still smirking at Goldie. His tunic was deep crimson trimmed in gold string at his chest and lace at the cuffs, far too elegant for even the richest of HMS Captains to own. _What brought you here, I wonder?_

"'Ow goes th' trip?" Goldie asked, drawing Anthony's attention from the captain to him. In answer, Laufey held out his spyglass and pointed over Anthony's shoulder to the bow. 

"Have a look yourself." 

Goldie grinned at Anthony and headed for the bow, leaving him alone with Laufey. He swallowed and bit back his nerves with a smile. "Captain, I wanted to - " 

"Loki, if you would," the captain interrupted, folding his arms over his chest. The sun caught the leather and silver cuffs around his wrists in a shimmer. 

"Loki," Anthony agreed, enjoying the click the foreign syllables made against his teeth. "Thank you for ending my punishment early." 

"Thanks is hardly needed," Loki answered. "It was meant to be a _punishment_ \- it hardly would have worked well were you to perish." 

Anthony grinned - despite how dark his words were, there was an undercurrent of humour to the captain's tone. "I suppose you are correct, in that matter." 

Loki turned his bright green eyes on him and lifted a thin black eyebrow. "So it seems." He smirked back at Anthony's wide grin. 

"Oi, Tony!" Anthony turned to see Goldie beckoning him over. "C'mon an' see!" 

Loki was at his side before he even looked back, hand hovering near his elbow. "Watch your step." Anthony didn't mind Loki guiding him, his presence still uneasy but strong, as they met with Goldie. 

The old man was grinning brighter than Anthony had ever seen as he passed over the spyglass. "'Ere, lad. Look." 

Anthony swiped his tongue over his teeth and took the spyglass. Loki leaned casually against the railing of his ship, the breeze freeing a few strands of his hair from the emerald ribbon. Anthony blinked and peered into the glass. 

He angled it to where Goldie directed him but saw nothing more than water and sky. Anthony frowned and lowered the glass. "I do not see anything." 

"Show 'im, Cap'n," Goldie said eagerly. Loki pushed himself away from the railing and stood behind Anthony. 

"Raise the spyglass and breathe slowly," he said, his breath ghosting over Anthony's cheek. He stood directly behind him, but much taller. In fact, Anthony noticed, he was even taller than Jack. "Hold the glass tightly with your right hand and pull with you left, like so." 

Loki's fingers brushed Anthony's wrists as they gripped the spyglass gently. His fingers were cool, exactly as they had been when he checked Anthony's fever during the storm. His left hand pulled the spyglass until Anthony let it move, and, as if by sheer will, Anthony could suddenly see beyond just the water and sky. 

He was vaguely aware of Loki stepping away as his gaze roamed across trees and cliffs. Ships came into view that blocked his gaze from the land, but he could make out off-white buildings with pinkish tiles for roofing. They spread for what seemed like miles inland and mingled with tall palm trees. Anthony lowered the spyglass with a bright smile, feeling his heart racing with the usual feeling of a new discovery. He turned towards his right where Loki was once again reclining. 

"Cuba?" He asked, smiling brightly. Loki smiled back himself, the expression oddly soft on his lips. 

"Cuba," the captain answered with a nod. He pushed himself from the railing and walked further onto the deck as Anthony peered back through the glass at the new land before him. Goldie dropped his palm to his shoulder and squeezed. 

"Excited, lad?" 

"Aye!" Anthony answered eagerly. 

"Ahoy, lads!" Goldie turned at the sound of Loki's voice. Anthony did too, recognizing it as that quiet commanding from the day of his skirmish. It was odd, how quickly the captain's demeanor shifted to match those around him. 

The captain stood atop the railing before the helm of the ship, his hair free of its binds and moving with the breeze. The crew cheered to show he had their attention, to which he bowed. "We are off the coast of Havana and approaching rapidly. I thank you all for your dedication - we have arrived faster than planned!" The crew cheered again; Goldie chuckled beside him. 

"As I am sure you all remember, Cuba was quite sad to see us go the last time," Loki said with a smirk; the men began to cackle and holler. Anthony didn't miss Goldie stiffening beside him, and wondered when he would learn the history of Cuba. 

"Regrettably, this voyage will be less riotous." Loki reached behind him and held his hand out; one of the men handed him a blue and red bundle. "Which is why we shall fly under the guise of King George." He held up a wrinkled Union Jack and snapped the fabric until it fully unfurled. "Borrowed from the late _Cavalier,_ of which I believe we shall have more use than she." 

Anthony swallowed down his flaring anger as Loki tossed the flag over to Penn. "Mr. Penn, if you would be so kind as to fly this filth for our docking." 

"Aye!" Penn saluted Loki and scrambled up the nearest rigging. 

"For the rest of you," Loki said, glancing over his men. "Be as calm and courteous as pirates are. Do try to not get yourselves killed." 

The crew cheered as Laufey dropped from the railing and took back the helm. Anthony still held his spyglass, knuckles white from how tightly he clenched. His anger was insurmountable, unyielding - just when he believed these pirates could be any more than that, he was proved wrong. Jack was right to warn him. 

"Tony," Goldie said, dropping his hand over one of his clenched ones. "Let's be gettin' back below deck, now." 

Anthony nodded and relaxed his grip. Goldie wasn't like the rest - Goldie he trusted. The older pirate took the spyglass and passed it to another with the order to take it to Laufey. "Between ye and me, Tony," he began as they opened the trap door. Anthony hummed and looked over. Goldie paused, eyes cast towards the helm, to Laufey. 

"It ain't 'ese men I be worried 'bout gettin' killed," he said softly, voice laced with worry. Anthony blinked, feeling some of his anger whittle away, as he followed his gaze. 

Laufey was calling orders to every available man as he steered the ship, their speed slowing as sails snapped in the wind above them. His hair whipped around his face but he hardly seemed affected - Tenny produced the captain's hat and passed it over. In the time it took to simply put on a hat, Laufey looked the dastardly pirate captain he was meant to be. 

"What happened in Cuba?" Anthony asked, his eyes transfixed on the emeralds and gold thread that hung from his hat and caught the light of the sun in the wind. 

"Nothin' good, Tony," Goldie answered ominously. "Nothin' _good."_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So promise I'll work on something else after this update - this story is just so...addicting. Hopefully you all enjoyed it! Please share your thoughts! :)


	7. Ashore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony touches land for the first time in months, and it seems being away from the ship brings out a kindness in Laufey.

* * *

"Awrite, ye lot! Ev'ry man best listen well 'cos I shan't be repreatin' meself," Goldie said, drawing himself tall beside the helm. Anthony stood off to his right, casting a disinterested glance over the crew gathered on the deck. 

"Half o' ye stays on th' ship and th' other half goes ashore, then switch. When ye be in the taverns, ye don't know nothin' 'bout no Pirate Laufey, an' ye don't know nothin' 'bout this here ship. If'n ye run yer damn tongues, ye had best learn fuckin' _Spanish_ real quick-like. Aye?" 

_"Aye!"_ Anthony watched the men carefully despite his nonchalance. Goldie, he knew, was important, and not just from his age. Older pirates seemed to be well respected for lasting as long as they did, but there was something more to old Goldie. 

The crew split off to decide on who left and who stayed, gathering in groups closer to the bow. Goldie held to the railing as he slowly lowered himself from the crate he stood on back to the deck. Anthony rushed forward to catch his arm as the old man swayed. 

"Ah, Goldie," Anthony said with a small grin. "Watch out for that first step, I hear it can be dangerous." 

Goldie grinned broadly at the inventor. "Aye, that it can. Jus' an 'our prior I was holdin' _yer_ arm." 

Anthony smiled, releasing Goldie once the man was stable. "The idea of land has helped my fever, I believe." 

"Aye," Goldie agreed. "Once th' Cap'n be ready, we be off." 

In the hour since spotting Havana, Anthony had been quite busy. He and Goldie went back below deck; Goldie set about prepping a list for supplies while Anthony set to work. He changed his clothing, first, to something far more presentable but not identifiable. Simple breeches and white long-sleeved tunic, his only abnormality a tan vest. For what he needed done, he did not need to be recognized. Then, he checked to see where Goldie was and set out ink and parchment on the small desk in his alcove. 

Anthony wrote quickly but as neatly as possible. He wasn't familiar with Havana but he knew the Royal Navy would have a presence there regardless and, should he be in luck's favour, would be able to pass along his message. Anthony had been at sea now for nearly two months, almost double the length he had been expecting. No doubt his sister would be wrought with worry; Anthony had to let her know somehow that he was still alive. 

On the deck now, with his letter pressed to his chest beneath his vest, Anthony took a deep breath. In the waters surrounding sat several merchant schooners and militant brigs, merely yards away from the most feared pirate vessel on the seas and none the wiser. Knowing that sent a thrill through Anthony that he couldn't quite explain. 

Footsteps drew Anthony's attention over to Gibbs, sauntering up to Goldie like he had much better ways to waste his time. His eyes sought Anthony first, bringing his already slimy expression to a low glower. 

"Oi, Goldie," he said, drawing the pirate's attention. "Me an' this lot 'ere opted to stay aboard first. Grim an' th' others are goin' out with th' Cap'n." He pointed to each group accordingly. Goldie nodded. 

"Aye. Ye blokes be ready - won't be much longer now," Goldie said, dismissing him. Gibbs nodded and, after shooting one more glare at Anthony, walked back down the stairs. Goldie turned and grinned brightly at him. 

"Still on th' outs?" 

"Aye," Anthony said, ignoring the glare he could still feel Gibbs tossing him. "I doubt it shall change overnight." 

"Aye," Goldie agreed. "Still, 'e would be wise not t' ruffle ye." 

Anthony nodded. No doubt Goldie was hinting to the captain becoming involved. If he never had to be saved from the likes of a pirate again, it would be too soon. 

Several members of the group Gibbs had appointed to be with him moved back to work, some scaling the mast and rigging to watch the harpooning boats sail to shore. Anthony pressed his elbows on the railing behind the helm and took a deep breath. The captain would be ready at any moment, now. He needed to calm himself; the captain seemed to have an ability to draw out his nerves like no other before. Anthony refused to entertain the thought of it being fear. 

For all his time on _Sleipnir_ he had hardly been treated as the prisoner he was. Aside from the chains for the first few days, Anthony had free reign to go where he pleased. Goldie was with him more than naught, telling him tales of sea and explaining the workings of the ship. He had a comfortable cot and desk, the likes of which no other had beside the captain himself. Anthony was insatiably curious - the captain didn't seem to go out of his way for him with information, however, whatever the reason. 

Anthony was beginning to feel _obligated_ to tell Laufey about his letter, about his sister. The pirate captain, aside from kidnapping him in the _first_ place, wasn't at all what he expected. Kindnesses seemed to be more in his manner than the tales perceived. Perhaps, were he to be entirely straightforward, Laufey wouldn't particularly mind the letter. Surely he could understand what it meant to have those who cared for him worry? 

Thinking of Goldie's words as the door unlatched below him, drawing his attention, Anthony swallowed. Laufey stepped out on the deck in a white sleeveless tunic, all his long hair drawn back beneath a worn black brimmed hat, the complete polar opposite of his usually stately attire. He still wore the many bangles and leather cuffs on his wrists and, as he turned to walk up the stairs towards them, Anthony could see the familiar emerald scarf tied around his waist with a pistol shoved down the front, the handle and flintlock exposed, as a single cutlass swung from his hip. 

Goldie moved towards him with a smile, already commenting on his attire. Anthony couldn't help but admire the captain - for all his wrongs and reputation, he was far too fair to be at sea. The captain seemed to feel Anthony's gaze, glancing up briefly and catching his eyes. The green there glowed beneath the shade of his hat, framed with tendrils of escaped black hair that twisted in the light breeze. Anthony felt his neck heat from being caught, drawing a smirk from Laufey that made the very same heat raise to his cheeks. 

"Are you ready?" Laufey asked, crossing over with Goldie beside him. Anthony nodded to fight clearing his throat. He felt Laufey's eyes sweep over him and remained still. "Is that all you have to wear?" 

Anthony nodded again, feeling indignation swell in his belly. "Would you be so kind as to recall, my original plans have been _neglected."_

Laufey smirked. "Surely a man of your stature would not travel without coin in his purse. Before business has been concluded, Goldie shall show you the ways of bartering. He is most skilled," the captain said in a fond tone, his eyes curling with a smile as he looked to the old man on his right. Anthony huffed - it seemed the captain had a penchant for mischief. "You could learn much from him." 

Goldie seemed to swell with the praise, leaving Anthony with nothing to do but nod in his wake. The older pirate grinned at him and slapped a hand to his shoulder. "Aye! Tony is a quick study - methinks he'll be better 'an me before long!" 

"A tall order, indeed," Laufey answered as Goldie clapped a hand to his shoulder as well. "The matters at hand first, however." 

"Aye," Goldie answered, giving them a shake. "Shall we be off?" 

Laufey nodded. Goldie squeezed Anthony's shoulder and stepped to the railing, barking out orders for those going ashore to pull out the harpooning boats. With Goldie gone, Anthony was acutely aware of being alone with the captain. Even though the pirate stood tall feet from him, he felt as if his presence was surrounding him. When Laufey turned his eyes to him again, the green bright against shade and pale skin, his presence became nearly suffocating. 

"Will there be anything you need in particular in Havana?" Laufey inquired, his voice low and soft as velvet. Anthony was beginning to become used to how the man's demeanor shifted around him, but it didn't stop the heat raising up his neck again. 

Typical to Stark fashion, Anthony grinned broadly to hide his flush and scratched his chin. "Perhaps a shave is in order? I imagine I look too much like my father for my own comfort." 

Laufey smirked; Anthony had no doubt he wasn't fooling the pirate for a second, but at least he was kind enough to not be patronized for it. "That will be arranged, in time. First you and Goldie shall accompany me to seek better treatment for your fever. After that subsides, which shall be the morrow at the latest, you shall have reign to go where you wish in the village. Be warned, however," Laufey said, looking out across his ship instead of at Anthony. "Do not become marooned. Havana can be quite dangerous without the sun's guidance." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Anthony answered. Laufey stepped closer still and tilted his chin, studying Anthony. The inventor blinked and resisted the urge to step back. 

"Are you well enough to go ashore?" Laufey asked quietly, his tone flirting concern that Anthony would have never expected from a pirate captain. That thought brought another flush to his neck that was too far out of his control; Laufey seemed to come closer, making Anthony nod quickly. The captain's lips twisted in a thoughtful frown. 

"It seems the heat has gotten to you again," Laufey murmured, eyes skimming Anthony's face. "We are nearly ready to depart; stay beside me, should you feel faint." 

Anthony nodded weakly and dropped his gaze to the deck, acutely aware of his sudden bout in muteness. Laufey nodded to Goldie as the old man came back over and announced that the boats were ready. Anthony felt a cool press against his elbow from Laufey's fingers, guiding him gently towards and down the stairs. Anthony peered over the edge of the ship to see the harpoon boat below with Grim and Penn already in it. He bit his bottom lip once he realized the next step - climbing down the rope ladder from the deck to the sea. 

Goldie went first, clambering over the railing with surprising speed for a man Anthony had just helped down from a small crate. Laufey watched carefully over the edge, waiting to make sure Goldie was secure. He turned to Anthony. 

"I shall go first. Wait a moment before following." The captain swung one leg elegantly over and straddled the railing, as if sitting astride a horse's back. Anthony briefly wondered if that would be something he would ever see. "Also, I suggest to keep your eyes on the ship. Rolling waves and descent may be too much to handle." 

Then, as soon as he was done speaking, Laufey dropped off the edge. Anthony rushed forward and peered down the edge, expecting a loud splash. Instead, the captain was already in the harpooning boat and smirking up at him. Anthony felt a rush of dizziness from watching the motion of the boat and pulled back from the edge, sucking in a deep breath. Carefully, he mimicked Laufey and swung a leg over, holding tightly to the thick rope of the ladder. He took a deep breath. 

Anthony placed one foot below the next, his eyes fixed on the grain of _Sleipnir_ before him. He searched blindly with the toes of his boots, careful to heed the captain's words of not looking down _\- again._ The first wave of dizziness still lingered as a particularly strong gust of wind pushed Anthony's entire body over a foot, causing him to nearly lose his grip on the ladder. He moved down a few more rungs before a second gust raced by; he searched for the next step but found none, the wind having tangled the ladder below him. In a moment of panic, Anthony attempted to move back up the side of the ship. 

A shaking of the ladder got his attention. "Oi, Tony!" It was Goldie, his voice pitched high over the wind. "Cap'n 'as the ladder fer ye. C'mon back down 'til 'e can grab ye!" 

Anthony nodded and stepped slowly, feeling the ladder anchored by Laufey. It shook slightly each time the wind blew and the sea moved, but within a few more steps he felt Laufey's arms around his waist. The captain's lithe form belied the strength he truly possessed, hauling Anthony first off of the ladder to his chest and then beside Goldie on the boat. Anthony blinked, feeling his skin buzzing from the contact that was fleeting at best, as Goldie grinned beside him. 

"Lad, yer gettin' climbin' lessons," Goldie teased, elbowing Anthony's side. Anthony grinned slightly, nodding to hide his embarrassment. "An' th' Cap'n 'ere will show ye. N'ver seen a man scramble up riggin' wot could match 'im. Not ev'n Penn." 

"Oi, Goldie! Them's fightin' words!" Penn called from the back where he and Grim were rowing. Anthony stole a glance at Laufey; the captain reclined back, his elbows hanging over the edge of the small boat with his boots propped on the curve of the bow. He was entirely relaxed, draped across the boat with his eyes closed and face tilted towards the sun. Anthony could still feel the press of chill arms around his waist, his thoughts drawn more towards Laufey's embrace. It reminded him of Jack, albeit a much more relieving embrace than harrowing. 

"Wot say ye, Cap'n?" Goldie asked loudly, grinning. Laufey rolled his neck before looking over. "A scramble, betwixt ye an' Penn?" 

Laufey smirked, looking over at Penn. The blond grinned at him as he rowed, his bravado holding strong. Anthony had to admire his tenacity. "Aye. What will the spoils be?" 

Goldie shifted a glance at Anthony before smirking. "Victor gets th' other's rations o' rum fer a fortnight, an' gits th' honour o' teachin' Tony the ways o' the riggin'." 

Anthony huffed, resisting rolling his eyes. "Why the hell am _I_ in this?" 

"Deal." Anthony looked over at Laufey, shocked from his readied reply. His gaze locked on the younger man, intense despite his relaxed pose. There was a mirth to his expression, a veiled sense of mischief that made a shiver race up Anthony's spine. "What say you, Mr. Penn?" 

Penn sighed loudly, as if obviously put out. "Well, I know yer rum ration is twice mine alr'dy. Aye, I'll do it." 

Goldie tossed his head back and laughed with enough mirth to shake the entire boat. "Aye, aye! 'Morrow, lads! Git good an' rested." 

Penn swore below his breath as he rowed, making Goldie laugh again. Laufey simply held his soft smirk, looking out across the waters as they drew closer and closer to Havana. Anthony looked behind them towards the ship, seeing the other two harpooning boats drawing closer. The five of them were the only group to be so small; the other boats held nearly ten men crammed to the edges with a third hitting the water loudly from _Sleipnir_ and rapidly filling. Quite literally half the crew was going ashore. Anthony's odds of slipping away felt fainter and fainter, but he was still determined; he looked towards the shore again. 

Small boats and rafts were anchored to the dock and the white sand of the beach. Penn and Grim were drawing further from the bustling dock towards an encampment on the beach of small tents and stalls. The colourful buildings Anthony had seen through the spyglass stood taller the closer they came, walls a mismatched shade of pastels and off-whites. Laufey shuffled upright; the action shifted the boat and drew Anthony's attention away from such a vibrant new culture to the pirate beside him. 

Beneath the pirate's tunic a gold chain flashed from movement, catching the sun. Anthony wanted to ask what it was - the captain's favourite attire for the deck was chest-exposing tunics and it seemed land didn't change his style - but refrained. It was new, but obviously held some sort of importance to be leaving the ship. 

The boat began to drag along the sand quickly; Grim and Penn climbed from the boat and drug it far enough for Laufey, Anthony, and Goldie to step clear of the worst of the sea. Anthony paused to help Goldie steady himself as Laufey pointed to a palm tree to anchor the boat to. 

"Help the others," Laufey said, earning a salute from Penn and a nod from Grim. "We shan't be long." 

Laufey dropped a hand to Anthony's shoulder, surprising the genius. "Stay close. Should we be separated, Goldie knows the way." Goldie nodded with a toothy smile. The captain headed towards an outdoor market further up the beach, crossing into grass and stone pathways. Anthony couldn't help but smile - the energy reminded him of Italy. Merchants called out to them as they passed, offering steamed and fresh fish or fried bananas. An odd fruit drew Anthony's attention, causing him to pause. 

"What is that?" He asked Goldie, gesturing to a purple and pink barbed ball with curled leaves. His father brought several delicacies from his travels, but fruit never lasted the trip. The sight was so new and foreign to Anthony that he couldn't help but be drawn in by such a bright oddity. 

"Oi Cap'n!" Goldie hollered, stopping the man short. Anthony swallowed, not realizing how far ahead Laufey was. However, in the swirl of bright clothing and bustle, Laufey had blended quite well. 

Laufey drew himself beside Anthony, glancing over the stall's contents and ignoring the merchant's greeting. "Has this caught your attention?" 

"Yes," Anthony answered, glancing over. "What is it?" 

"Pitaya," Laufey answered. "Native more to the lands west of here. It grows amongst barbed ivy of cacti in some of the hottest environs to grace the lands." 

_"Amazing,"_ Anthony breathed, smiling. Laufey shifted his gaze from the stall back to Anthony, the younger man oblivious of his expression as he continued to observe the new fruit. Goldie smirked, watching the pair of them. 

Laufey gestured to the merchant and held up three fingers. _"Tres, por favor."_

_"Si!"_ The merchant exclaimed, grinning broadly. He quickly scooped up three of the less wilted pitaya and passed them over to Goldie, who held his hands out. After the fruit was put away in Goldie's satchel, Laufey drew a small pouch from beneath his emerald sash and passed the man coin. 

_"Gracias,"_ Laufey said, nodding his head. The merchant bowed low as they left, his attention immediately drawn away to another possible buyer. Anthony blinked, surprised, as Laufey immediately turned away from the stall back in the direction he originally was heading. Goldie jerked his head and nodded after Laufey, following at a much sedated pace as Anthony brought up the rear. 

Once they were clear of the market, Anthony caught sight of Laufey slipping down an alley between a pastel pink and teal building. Women walked with children and bags in tow as dogs and chickens skirted around the dirt paths. Goldie led Anthony through the throng like an expert, and within seconds they were again with Laufey. 

"You kept up well, I see," Laufey said with a smirk, holding his hand out to Goldie once they were beside him. 

"No, no credit here," Anthony said, feeling winded from the jog. All that time lazing aboard the ship had made him soft, it seemed. "It was all Goldie." 

The old man chuckled as he passed Laufey one of the fresh pitaya. "'E's good at praisin', innit he?" 

"Aye," Laufey answered with a smirk. He stooped slightly to draw a dagger from the side of his boot. In a quick swipe the pink flesh broke apart, exposing a black dotted white core. Laufey pushed the blade between flesh and meat and traced the edge before cutting criss-cross patterns of the freed fruit. He did the same to the second half, holding both expertly in one hand as his left worked effortlessly. After wiping and sheathing his blade, Laufey held a half out to Anthony and Goldie. "Use the husk as a bowl, but do not eat it." 

Anthony took the fruit carefully, picking out one white cube and surprised by the firmness. He darted his tongue out to give it a quick lick, not at all unnerved by Goldie and Laufey watching. The fruit was sweet and tangy, entirely unlike anything he had ever had in Italy. He popped the cube into his mouth and bit down. It was crunchy but yielding, a perfect combination. Anthony loved it. 

"Even better than I hoped," Anthony muttered, drawing a chuckle from Goldie as the old man munched on his half. Laufey smiled, a soft and somewhat foreign expression for his usual countenance. "Thank you, Captain." 

"Loki, if you would," the captain insisted, reminding Anthony of their earlier conversation on the deck of the ship. Anthony nodded and offered a small smile of his own. 

"Thank you, Loki," he said, nearly again in exact repeat of earlier. Loki stepped closer and gently took a cube of pitaya from Anthony's half. The bangles and leather whispered against each other as his wrist moved. He smirked before popping the cube into his mouth and turning away. 

"Shall we continue?" Loki asked with a gesture towards Goldie. The old man nodded around his mouthful of pitaya, his words garbled as he chewed. Loki winked at him before setting off again, making Anthony grin. It seemed the captain had a decent sense of humour. 

This time, Anthony was better prepared. Loki weaved in and out of the milling pedestrians with ease, trailing down alleys and dodging wheeled carts or livestock. Goldie stayed between them, but Anthony managed to keep his attention locked on the captain. He quickly finished the pitaya and tossed the husk away, feeling more than better. His dizziness from the small boat was gone along with the jolts of pain he felt from his belly to his head. Whatever nutrients within the pitaya seemed to boost his overall being and energy. 

The buildings began to thin the further inland Loki led them. Population became sparse as well, leaving thick foliage and sticky heat. The humidity of Havana was bearable on the coast but beneath the heavy palm trees and banana leaves Anthony could practically see steam. Farmers led larger livestock around small fenced in sections of land being guarded by men in red coats and white trousers. Anthony recognized the men to be British, reminding him of the letter pressed beneath his vest. He had to find a way to deliver it once they were back in town. 

Most of Havana was protected by a large wall, running from a naval base in the east to a large mansion property along the west coast of the beach. Loki led them nearly to the edge, only a stone's throw from the entrance to the base. He paused to check that Anthony and Goldie were indeed in tow before signaling to the older man. 

"Goldie," he began, holding his hand out. The other pirate nodded and drew out a black scarf from his satchel. Anthony watched Loki wrap it around his throat and over the lower half of his face. "My thanks." 

Loki stepped closer to them and dropped his voice, pitching it deeper than normal. "Our destination is accessible only by passing before this base. Around the stone corner there is a path in the cliff, hidden by time and bramble. Only those who are aware of it may find it. Goldie will lead the trail but mark that mind of yours for a later time, should you need to find it again." 

Anthony shot a glance at Goldie, feeling apprehensive. "Are you to create some sort of diversion?" 

Loki chuckled, the sound odd in his adopted tone. "Nay. I shall merely follow behind. Should I be recognized, this keeps _you_ safe." 

Goldie nodded quickly. "Aye. Top priority, ye be, Tony." 

Anthony frowned, not understanding _why_ and very ready to ask, but Loki's hand on his shoulder stopped him. The captain's eyes sought his between the heavy black scarf and the shade of his hat. Anthony was certain this time - _they glowed._ "Not now. Follow. I shall be behind soon enough." 

Anthony felt his stomach churn but nodded. Goldie took his arm and tugged him free of the trees they had been hiding behind, pulling his arm over his shoulders. "Aye, nephew! Thank ye fer takin' this old man fer a walk." 

Anthony glanced over his shoulder back at Loki. He was unable to see him, so he turned back to where Goldie was guiding them and grinned. "Well, how often do I come to Havana? London is lonely without you!" 

Goldie laughed, the sound very convincing as they passed the first set of guards. Anthony could feel the eyes of the men in the turrets on them. 

"Aye, aye," Goldie dismissed with a wave of his hand. "An' 'ow be that sister o' yer's? Me niece?" 

Anthony nearly faltered as he stepped over a stone in the path. Goldie couldn't have any idea, could he? Did he know about his letter, the only lifeline he had to telling his sister of his state? Anthony had been careful - there was no possible way. He swallowed and smiled. They were acting, putting on a show to get pass guards who seemed as disinterested in them as Anthony was nervous. He laughed as they rounded the corner of the base. 

"She's doing quite well, Uncle," Anthony said, fighting down his panic. "Why, just the other day - " 

_"Halt!"_

Both Anthony and Goldie froze, turning slowly around. A British guard patrol stood yards behind them, but with a sigh of relief Anthony realized they weren't speaking to them. As Goldie stiffened beside him, Anthony caught sight of whom the words _were_ for. 

Loki, having waited as he had said he would, stood tall with three guards aiming their rifles at him. He held both hands up in a sign of peace as the fourth addressed him. 

"What business have you here, sneaking around in the brambles?" The leader barked. Anthony shot a quick glance at Goldie - the old man's eyes were fixed on his captain, fear touching the edges. 

"None, _se_ ñ _or,"_ Loki answered in his deeper voice, keeping his head angled down to prevent them from seeing any inch of his face. "A stroll. Havana is beautiful, _si?"_

The obvious leader of the patrol stepped closer. "You live here?" 

_"Si,"_ Loki answered. The man huffed. 

"Take that scarf off, lad. Surely you feel faint?" 

"No, _se_ ñ _or,"_ Loki answered. "I was touched at birth." 

"Oh, a pale man like yourself, _touched?"_ The patrol began to chuckle, loud vibrations that echoed off the wall of the base. Anthony felt his stomach churn; the sense of helplessness was becoming too much. Goldie held fast to his arm, his fingers digging into the coarse fabric. 

"Show your face." 

"No," Loki said, calmly. The men stopped laughing, the atmosphere becoming tense. The leader chuckled and crossed his arms. 

"Either remove that scarf or I shall do it _for_ you," he threatened, hand dropping to the pistol strapped to his side. 

"I do not think that wise," Loki answered. "To threaten an innocent man. Where I am from, those guilty pay heavily." 

"I suppose it shall be your word against ours, then," the patrolman said curtly. He drew his pistol, leveling his aim between Loki's eyes were he to be looking up. 

Goldie's grip became unbearable. "Christ, Tony. E's gon' shoot th' cap'n fer _no_ bloody reason!" 

_"Shit,"_ Anthony cursed, his voice low. His conscience raged within him - if he didn't act and simply stood by, there was a good chance that all his troubles could die in the dirt. The question to answer, however, was too difficult to fathom. Would he, a man who refused to continue the work his father had started because he couldn't stand to see another in pain, in good graces allow an innocent to be slaughtered without preamble? Loki had done several terrible deeds to warrant such treatment, Anthony was positive, but this particular moment in time he was abolished of all misdoings and simply _walking._

Could he stand to see Loki shot, his hat flying off in a spray of red across the bushes behind him, or could he stop it all and damn well _do_ something? 

The _click_ of the flintlock drawing back made Anthony's mind up for him as he wretched his arm free of Goldie. Anthony Stark was known for his quick wit regardless of environ, this being no exception. 

After all, he had to do _something._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given up trying to fight it. I just DO IT.  
> Also, pitaya is a dragon fruit, just in case it wasn't inferred.


	8. It's Bigger On The Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony's quick thinking saves the captain from an otherwise untimely demise, but why for all his good intentions do more questions arise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys - this is probably going to be my last update for at least two weeks. Going on a trip where I will have no time to write, so I'm hoping to get caught up after I get back. I'll try my best to stay in contact regardless, but this is it for a bit. Enjoy!

* * *

Anthony ignored Goldie's soft calls behind him. His eyes were fixed on the patrolman holding his pistol level to Loki's face, quickening his pace. This couldn't happen. 

"There you are!" Anthony called, projecting his voice. All eyes turned to him, including Loki. He expected anger, but was mildly surprised to see the captain keep his calm demeanor. Loki did, however, incline his head. "I thought we had lost you amongst the brush!" 

"Does this _vagabond_ mean something to you, boy?" The captain of the guard said, lowering his pistol slightly. "I caught him sneaking about our brush, hiding his visage. What for?" 

"He _absolutely_ does!" Anthony announced, puffing his chest out slightly. These men seemed they would be easily cowed, once the captain was denounced. "This man is no _vagabond,_ but rather my escort. My uncle and I just passed here, as I am sure your men within the turrets shall recall." Anthony pointed to the men stationed directly before the fort gates. The captain turned slightly. 

While his attention was averted, Anthony took the space between the captain and Loki and crossed his arms over his chest. "See? Your men can attest to this. Now, I demand you release him. He was merely doing his job." 

The captain huffed. "Why should I answer to _you,_ boy? You are of no consequence to me or mine." 

"Perhaps not to you, _captain,"_ Anthony leveled, his eyes narrowing. "But your general may argue otherwise. General Joshua Grives, if memory serves?" 

Anthony was pleased to see the captain's weight shift slightly, a look of uncertainty flashing across his face. "Why, yes." 

"General Grives was a close personal friend of my father - undoubtably he would frown upon your continued hindrance to his late friend's son. Shall we be on our way?" 

The captain cleared his throat and holstered his pistol. "Certainly, sir. My sincerest apologies." 

"And my deepest thanks," Anthony said, nodding his head. He turned slightly to look at Loki over his shoulder. "Stay closer next time, _si?"_

_"Si,_ my lord," Loki answered, his voice still pitched lower for his disguise. Anthony swallowed quickly and turned on his heel, heading back to where Goldie still stood. Loki fell into step silently beside him. 

"Oi, Tony!" Goldie hissed, snatching Anthony around the corner once he and Loki were free of the guard's vision. "Are ye bloody _crazy?"_

"I couldn't let them _shoot_ him," Anthony immediately defended, shaking off Goldie's grasp. "Loki didn't do anything; he was simply _walking._ Wouldn't you have done the same if you could?" 

"Aye, an' I 'ave, many times 'fore," Goldie answered, tone still hot. "But _ye_ are t' be _protected._ Hell, yer still with fever!" 

"I feel slightly better," Anthony protested. Loki ushered them towards a large thicket of bramble. "After the pitaya, honestly I do." 

"But yer _not - "_

"Goldie, enough." Both Anthony and Goldie looked at Loki. The captain pushed the scarf down from around his face and sighed. 

"Yes, the action was rash but cunning. I would not have been shot, but our ruse would have been discovered," Loki answered, folding the scarf carefully. He removed his hat next, revealing the tight bun that held his hair back. Anthony decided he much preferred the captain's hair down. "For that, it was required." He turned his eyes to Anthony as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "My thanks." 

Anthony nodded, feeling his face and neck flush. "I only did what I felt was right. The way you were being treated, it wasn't fair." 

"Aye, but the British care not for the people of the nations they conquer," Loki said. He replaced his hat and handed the scarf to Goldie, who deposited it back into his pack. "Perhaps, another time or place, they will learn of their mistakes. Havana is not that place, and this not our time." 

Anthony nodded, not entirely understanding. The captain spoke cryptically at times, as if he had a secret he felt alluding to but never honestly exposing. He could, however, admit to himself that hearing Loki's normal soft voice again was a relief. Anthony thought back to the title Loki had given him as he defended him to the patrol. _My lord._ He wondered what it would sound like, spoken to him normally. 

"Come along, gents," Loki said, turning to the bramble. He drew his cutlass from his side and gestured. "This is the path. I shall clear enough space to slip in." 

Anthony watched Loki cut a clean space only a foot across, tossing off leaves and branches over the cliff along their right. Anthony casually took a step further inland. He had seen how far down that cliff went, and he felt perfectly fine standing exactly where he was. 

Loki slid through the bramble, cussing slightly below his breath. "These are sharper than I remember." 

"Are you well?" Anthony called, furrowing his brow. Goldie glanced at him slightly but said nothing. There was another curse before Loki answered. 

"I am well, simply annoyed," Loki answered, his tone slightly warm. "It is safe to follow - I have taken the brunt of this plant's attack, I believe." 

Anthony couldn't help but grin as he slid through the gap Loki made, seeing the captain a few feet further up. He kept his eyes on the ground, looking for roots and jagged rocks that could possibly lead him tumbling to his death. Within a few minutes, he was standing behind Loki. "Are we stuck?" 

"We bloody well better _not_ be," Goldie called, coming up behind Anthony. Loki hummed and shook his head. 

"Not precisely," he answered. The captain dropped his hands to his hips. "We are, however, in a slight predicament." 

"Wot's 'at?" Goldie asked. "She not home?" 

"Not at all," Loki answered. "She is very much home, but blocked in. It appears there was a landslide. Rocks have piled the entrance." 

Goldie groaned. "Nope, 'at's all ye. I'mma go sit by th' fort." 

"Very well, then!" Loki called, sheathing his weapon. He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at Anthony. "You said you felt better - do you feel well enough to help?" 

Anthony nodded, realizing how close he still stood behind Loki. He took an instinctive step back. "How bad is it?" 

"Not too bad, but I shall move for you to see," Loki said. He took a large step forward and grabbed the cliff face to their left. Anthony stepped up to where he was before and frowned. 

Before him was a ten foot gap where there had once been a rope bridge. The landslide had entirely severed the ropes, now dangling freely from their side of the path. Rocks piled over an obvious opening in the cliff on the other side of the gap, entirely hidden from sea by large palm trees. The placement was genius, aside from the obvious side-effect of the landslide. Anthony looked over at Loki, who still had one hand bracing against the cliff. It really was a path meant for single-file movement. 

"How do we get over there?" He asked. "The rope bridge is destroyed." 

Loki smirked. "We get help from the other side, of course." Loki took a step closer to Anthony, wrapping his arm around his waist for balance. Anthony realized he largely didn't mind - there was obviously not enough room for the both of them. Loki cupped his free hand to his mouth and took a deep breath. 

"Amora!" He hollered, his voice reverberating off of the cliff wall. The trees dissolved the sound of his voice quickly. Nothing answered his call, so Loki cleared his throat and tried again. _"Amora!"_

This time, there was a reply. A muffled sound came from behind the rocks before the topmost and smallest was pushed aside. "What do you _want?"_

"Amora, how are you?" Loki called. The boulder beside the small opening shifted. Anthony could see a pale hand withdraw back to the cave. 

"Loki?" She answered. "Is that you?" 

"Last I checked!" The captain answered. Anthony snorted, drawing his attention. Loki smirked quickly and held just slightly tighter. 

"Oh, dear - I am _so_ glad to see you!" Amora called. "I'm sure you can see, what predicament I'm in." 

"Largely," he answered. "We shall have you out in a moment." 

"Who have you got there, Loki?" She asked. Anthony didn't much like being talked about like he wasn't there. 

"My name is Tony, m'lady," he answered before Loki could. 

"Oh, my goodness! Is he - " 

"Inside, Amora!" Loki answered sharply. Anthony furrowed his brow but didn't ask. "Can you push aside enough to throw a rope?" 

"I - I believe so," she answered. Slowly a few more rocks tumbled away until Anthony could see the face and shoulders of a woman, nearly as pale as Loki, but with hair the exactly polar opposite of his. Bright and very, very blonde. "This is enough, I think." 

"Do not strain yourself," Loki warned. "Toss it, and I shall catch." 

She nodded and threw a wrapped bundle of rope. Loki snatched it expertly from the air, hardly jostling Anthony at all. "I need you to step back, now. To the brush." 

Anthony nodded, allowing Loki to direct him. "What are you doing?" 

Loki smirked again, his eyes bright. "You shall see in a moment's time." 

Before Anthony could ask, Loki pulled the same trick he had on the ship - the captain dropped over the edge of the cliff with Amora's rope in hand. Anthony felt his throat dry as he immediately went back to the edge. 

Loki had simply climbed down the broken rope bridge, using the wooden planks as rungs to a ladder. Anthony sighed - he was _not_ a fan of Loki's disappearing acts. 

"How about next time you say something before dropping off a ledge?" Anthony called, glaring down at the top of Loki's hat. The captain looked up, the edge of the new rope clenched in his teeth. 

"Pardon?" Loki asked, voice muffled by the rope. Anthony just rolled his eyes and stood back in the bramble. Loki was done a few minutes later, climbing his way back up with the bridge in tow. "Here we are. Amora, ready?" 

"Always!" Loki quickly tossed over the edge of the unfurled rope. Amora caught it and pulled, the bridge slowly going back to place. She wrapped the edge of the rope around a hefty boulder and tied it, pulling the boulder into her cave entrance. The rock made a loud thud when it landed, but the bridge was pulled taunt. "That should hold you boys." 

"Aye," Loki called. "Be right there." He turned to Anthony. "I shall go first to test the strength. Be prepared to run, if need be." 

Anthony hoped he wouldn't have to but nodded. "Be careful." 

Loki winked at him as he grabbed the rope handrails of the swinging bridge. "Always." The captain swung his feet to the first plank and paused. "Goldie, come along now!" Loki crossed the bridge in a matter of seconds, grabbing the security rope once he was on the other side. 

Goldie exited the bramble near Anthony. "Was wonderin' wot took s'long. Didn't know th' whole damn _bridge_ was down." 

"You've been here before?" Anthoy asked. 

"Aye, at least once a year," the old pirate answered. "Go along, Tony. Th' cap'n is waitin'." 

Anthony turned to look at Loki, still holding the rope as extra protection. He nodded and took the handrails as Loki had done before. For whatever reason, he trusted him. 

With a deep breath, Anthony scampered across the makeshift bridge. He held his breath with each step, keeping his eyes focused on one of the boulders blocking Amora's cave. The tunnel vision helped; within seconds his feet were again on solid ground as momentum continued to carry him. He put his palms out to brace himself but was stopped by a strong arm around his waist. Anthony released the breath he held with a soft _whoosh,_ looking over at Loki. 

The pirate stood with his right hand clenched tight from the rope, wrapped round and round his forearm. His bicep bunched tightly from the strain of helping to hold the weight of the bridge single-handedly. He smiled at Anthony, an expression the younger inventor was beginning to get used to. 

"Wonderful," he praised softly, his breath cool against Anthony's cheek. "Now help Amora, if you would. For all her talk, she is but a lass." 

"Oi, old man!" Amora snapped, breaking whatever spell that had seemed to descend over the pair. "I can _hear_ you." 

"Come along, Goldie!" Loki said instead, removing his arm from Anthony to take the rope again in both hands. Anthony, feeling the monotonous task of removing boulders to be a relief, turned his attention to freeing the woman trapped in the cave rather than the mysterious man to his left. Things still weren't adding up, and somehow he felt this Amora woman to be a possible light. 

Once Goldie was safely on the other side of the gap, Loki allowed the bridge to slacken and turned to help Anthony. With Amora's help on the other side, the three of them cleared all the earth easily. 

"By Mother's grace," Amora breathed, dabbing her forehead with the back of her wrist. "Loki, you are a _saviour."_

"Alas," Loki sighed, standing up from where he was properly tying the rope bridge back in place. "Were you not the only one to say so." 

Amora shrugged, the motion elegant and graceful. "I cannot change the world, Loki." 

"Yes," Loki agreed. "That ship has long sailed." 

Anthony twisted his lips in a frown. "What - ?" 

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" Amora said with a flap of her hand. "Just the old reminiscing, is all. Tony, you said your name was?" She asked, shifting the topic with a confusing fluidity. Amora turned her gaze to Anthony, skimming his form from top to bottom. Anthony realized her eyes were a vibrate green as well, but more on the deep forest side. They did not glow as Loki's did, but there was a level of wisdom that was unnerving. 

"Yes, m'lady," Anthony answered. Goldie clapped his hand on the inventor's shoulder. 

"An' quite th' genius!" Goldie boasted, making Anthony grin. Amora smiled slyly. 

"Loki does not take ill company," she answered, her voice cryptic. The tone sent a shiver up Anthony's spine, and he suddenly wished she would look anywhere but at him. 

Luckily, Loki seemed to feel the same. "Amora, as much as a reunion is in order, we have business." 

Amora pulled her attention away from Anthony to look at their captain. Now up close, Anthony got a better view of her features. She was beautiful, her blonde hair pushed back from her face with a bright green kerchief, exposing high and sharp cheekbones. Why, if Anthony was to guess - 

"Come along then, dears," Amora said with a nod, wrapping a thin arm around Anthony's shoulders and drawing him close. He frowned slightly, his chin resting near her exposed shoulder. Again, he was kindly reminded of the shortness he suffered for his age. "Madame Amora shall light your paths." 

Anthony threw a quick glance over his shoulder, catching Goldie's eye. The old pirate nodded mutely, his expression stating that he would kindly explain later. Loki, on the other hand, was entirely unreadable - but he did not move his gaze from the back of Amora's head. Anthony swallowed quickly as the sun left his view. 

The cave was wide and spacious, the mouth and walls covered in a plethora of herbs and flowers drying. The smells immediately assaulted Anthony's nose, causing him to sneeze. Amora paused and tutted at him, passing over a handkerchief from her ample bosom. Anthony thanked her but didn't dare dab his nose with it. 

Further in were torches, lit by a fair smelling oil that burned brightly. More vines hung there, held high to the ceiling curiously. In fact, the entire cave was peculiar. All the walls and flooring were smooth, hardly a dab of sand or roughness in sight the likes Anthony had never seen. He knew of nothing to cause such smoothness other than natural erosion; even the explosives he used with his tools couldn't be quite that refined. 

They entered a wider section of the cave that held a cot draped in ornate duvets and large pillows. The floor shifted from smooth rock to warm rugs, something entirely too unnatural to this part of the world. A large cooking pot sat in a small alcove opposite of the bedding, covered by a bamboo lid and surrounded by walls of wooden crates flipped to act as shelving. 

The entire place was far too lavish for a cave. But then again, so was the woman who dwelled within. 

"So, my dear," Amora said, guiding Anthony over to the plush bed. She urged him to sit, which he did with much relief, hoping to hide his surprise at how literally he _sank._ Goldie didn't miss a thing, winking at him in amusement. "What do you need from _me?"_

Loki held his hand out to Goldie, keeping his eyes on Amora, who quickly withdrew something from his pack and handed it over. Loki crossed to where she stood beside Anthony and held his hand out. Amora looked down and gently took the parchment, her gown twisting slightly with her movement. The cave fell silent as she looked over the list, humming slightly. Anthony still couldn't decide if he liked her or not. 

"My dear, sweet, Loki," she purred, shaking her head after a moment. "These will not be simple." 

"I have come prepared," Loki countered. He held his hand again out to Goldie. The old man fell again to his pack, moving back with a small box in hand. "For you." 

Amora's eyes lit up at the prospect of a gift. She folded the parchment neatly before accepting the gift from Goldie. Carefully the lid was lifted and folded away; Anthony practically _suffered_ to withdraw himself from the cushions of the bedding to see within. 

Amora gasped softly, her eyes widening further. "Oh, _Loki."_ Anthony paused, suddenly not sure if he wanted to know what Loki had given her. Another part of him, a quiet part that he promptly ignored, did _not_ like the way she said Loki's name. Amora reached within the box and drew a long golden chain free, the metal bright and glistening in the torch light. At the end sat a beautiful blue stone the colour of a bright morning sky, spiderwebbed in black cracks and encased in gold to match the chain. "Where is it from?" 

"North of here, where the English have just begun to poison anew," Loki answered smoothly. "I became acquainted with local men who speak in odd tones. I am to understand this wards off evil, for their culture." Loki paused. "For those you last spoke of; I believe this shall help you." 

Amora carefully dropped the chain around her neck, the stone resting in the exact place the handkerchief she offered Anthony had been. She smiled slightly, rubbing the stone with her fingers, before flinging her arms around Loki's neck. The captain hugged her waist lightly, the embrace lasting only seconds, before Amora whirled away to rummage through several of the crates against the walls. Loki sighed slightly, nodding to Goldie. 

"Help her, if need be," he said. 

"Aye!" Goldie said, moving across the cave. "Wot ye need, Miss Am'ra?" 

Amora hummed beneath her breath, the tone light and simple. "Bags, if you would, dearest Joseph." 

"Aye, ma'am!" 

Anthony watched the pair move along the wall as he pushed to the edge of the bed. Loki carefully sank to the foot of the cot, only a foot or so over from Anthony, and rested his back against the frame. "She is a whirlwind." 

"That she is," Anthony answered, resting his palms on his knees. Suddenly, he felt nervous. "How do you know her?" 

Loki tilted his head to the side, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them. Anthony hated to admit, but in the low light catching on the many bangles around his wrists and casting the perfect shades of shadow across his face, that deadly pirate captain looked _incredible._ "We have known each other for many, many years. I suppose you could say we grew up together." 

Anthony nodded, watching the blonde dart around. She left Goldie in a confused state, spinning in circles; Anthony smiled. "I can tell you are close." 

Loki looked over curiously, his expression immediately masked. "Does that bother you?" 

Anthony blinked, surprised. He felt his face immediately heat as he avoided the captain's gaze. "I don't understand - why would it?" 

"Just a question," Loki answered softly. Still, he did not look away. "A yes or no question, easily answered, _if_ you allow." 

Anthony opened and closed his mouth quickly, feeling his throat work. It _did_ bother him, but _why?_ "I - " 

"Loki, darling?" Amora called. Loki merely quirked a thin eyebrow, not looking away from holding Anthony's gaze. 

"Yes?" He answered smoothly. "Is there an issue?" 

"Not particularly, just my curiosity," she said. Loki blinked and slid his gaze to her, not moving from his spot on the floor. 

"I shall try to enlighten," he replied, stretching his legs out across the rug before him. "Proceed." 

"I was just wondering," Amora commented, her voice curious but not pressing. "What ever would you need banewort, gilliflower, _and_ elder for? Did you not get enough of the last previously?" 

Loki sighed softly, loud enough for only Anthony to hear. "I suppose I credited you too highly, Amora." 

The woman froze and spun, her eyes blazing. "Credited _what?"_

"Did you not notice his condition?" Loki answered, crossing his ankles slightly. "I derived that in the proximity, it would have been unmistakable." 

Amora spun her heated gaze to Anthony, making the inventor bite his lip. She crossed the room in quick strides and stood before him, taking his freshly bearded chin in hand. After staring into his eyes for the briefest of moments, her hard gaze softened. 

"Oh, my poor Tony; you aren't feeling well." 

"Heat fever," Loki supplied, pushing himself from the floor and walking over to Goldie. He peered into the old man's bag and nodded slightly. "Everything here is for him." 

"Burned through that elder to sleep, I see," she murmured, pressing the inside of her wrist against his forehead. Anthony blinked up at her, confused. Was that the drink Goldie continued to feed him? "How have you been feeling since entering my home?" 

Anthony paused to think - after the pitaya, he had felt far better than the last few days. Entering her cave, aside from the sneezing, his mind had not felt fogged. "Better, honestly," he answered, watching Loki over her shoulder. He tied off a bag quickly and dropped it into Goldie's bag, giving another brief nod. 

"I am glad," she said, her face softening into a smile. "Being ill is never fun, especially aboard a ship." 

"Aye!" Goldie answered in a huff, adjusting his pack. "Jus' ask _me."_

Amora grinned over her shoulder at him. "I did quite well on those teeth, friend." 

Goldie nodded and laughed. "Aye! Ye 'ave skills, lass." 

Anthony frowned as Amora turned away, lifting the flap on Goldie's satchel. Her voice became shrill once she noticed Loki's extra addition, but Anthony hardly listened. Goldie had told him his teeth were destroyed when he was around Anthony's age. Even without knowing the _exact_ time, Goldie was nearly sixty. His accident was almost forty years ago, and Amora barely looked older than his sister. 

"Loki!" She snapped. "I cannot say that I'm surprised, but _honestly?"_

The captain shrugged. "And?" 

"And _what?"_ Amora demanded. "Have you no shame?" 

Loki smirked. "Have you been in the dark this entire time? I do apologize - I am Loki Laufey, Pirate Captain of the vessel _Sleipnir - "_

"That's all you've got to say for yourself?" 

"What more would you like, Amora?" 

"Perhaps a _real_ answer?" She snapped, resting her hands on her hips. Loki glanced over at Anthony, the inventor still toiling over the new information in his mind. He jerked his chin towards him. 

"As I said, everything here is for him," he answered clearly. "My lord has taken ill, and that does not bode well with me." 

All of Anthony's thoughts ground to a screeching halt, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Loki turned his attention away, back to the verbal bashing Amora was kindly dishing him, leaving Anthony alone with what was left of his previous thoughts and the new ones his comment brought. _My lord?_ Earlier, he had wondered what that phrase would sound like coming from Loki in his usual persona. Now, he wasn't so sure he could handle it. His fever felt like it was returning tenfold, but Anthony knew better. 

They bid farewell to Amora a few minutes later with promises to return before sailing back to sea. Amora carefully placed a kiss to Loki's and Goldie's cheek in passing before turning to Anthony. She grabbed his shoulders with both of her hands and simply stared. 

"My, dear Tony," she said, her voice verging on awe. Anthony stared back, watching her eyes dart to every feature of his face. "You certainly are _something."_

"Not for much longer, once this beard is gone," he quipped, unable to contain himself. She smiled brightly and laughed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek as well. 

"With _or_ without," Amora countered. "Were the time to be different, I would gladly trade places with that old man." 

"Enough, Amora," Loki answered dryly, reaching out to take Anthony's wrist. He allowed himself to fall into that light tug, his mind still reeling from his new title. "We need to be back to the ship." 

"Be safe, comrades!" She said, waving from the mouth of the cave. Loki nodded and began the walk back, careful over the bridge. He paused to hold one of the handrails for Anthony and Goldie as they crossed, guiding the inventor back to the bramble path with a hand on the small of his back. Once Goldie was in tow, he tossed a hand to Amora. 

"I shall be in touch," he called. 

"I demand no less!" She answer brightly, a small laugh in her tone. Anthony waved to her before he was led back to the main path. They paused a moment for Loki to rewind the black scarf around his face and adjust his hat before they walked before the fort. 

As Anthony watched him, his movements fluid and quick, precise, he resisted a strong urge to stop him, to see what would happen if he walked out without a disguise. For Amora, to live unnoticed literally beneath hundreds of militants, was incredible. Why couldn't Loki do the same, simply walking? 

Anthony swallowed as the captain waved them on. He realized that, regardless of all his gifts and intelligence, he still had far too many questions without answers. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I'm dying to know: what did everyone think of Amora? Hmm, hmm? :) Tell me in that niffy box below!!


	9. This Isn't Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio make it safely back to the ship from Amora's cave, where Loki proceeds to show Anthony a few answers to his mysteries - of course, not without a few new ones birthed along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the long-awaited next chapter! Just as a head's up, this fic *still* has me super behind in all my others, so I will be uploading a MINIMUM of ONE chapter per other story before even looking at this again. Just so we're all on the same page. Not that I don't love this fic, I just know I've got some pissed off readers for my KakaIru fics. But enjoy!

* * *

Walking by the fort was simple - Loki continued to wear his scarf and stayed close to Anthony's side. Anthony walked with a hand on Goldie's shoulder, laughing loudly at something he said. Once near the gate, Anthony caught the eye of the man who had tried to blow Loki's head off. He adverted his gaze quickly. 

They moved at a leisurely pace, soon leaving the fort behind and moving into small throngs of people. Loki continued to wear his scarf, however, all the way to the beach. Goldie brought up the rear this time, burdened with the herbs Loki procured. 

Penn leaned against the palm tree where five boats were tied. He stood up quickly once Loki came into view and saluted. 

"All set, Cap'n?" He asked, already untying one boat's lead. Loki nodded. 

"Aye. Take us back, and then you may return." 

Penn grinned and drug the boat towards the soft lap of the tide. "Aye! T'was only 'bout two hours." 

Loki took one side of the boat and helped hoist it into the water. "Two hours too long, I am afraid." 

Goldie snorted. "S'prised ye two dinnit slit one an'ther's _throats."_

Anthony frowned. "Seriously?" 

His dubious tone made Goldie laugh from his belly. "Aye! Ol' Goldie'll explain soon." 

A cool touch on Anthony's wrist surprised him. He turned sharply to stare directly into Loki's bright emerald eyes. He stooped slightly, bringing his gaze to Anthony's shorter level. "To the boat, now," he said softly. Anthony could only nod and allowed himself to be directed close to the bow. Goldie sank beside him a moment later as Penn and Loki pushed the boat the rest of the way. Anthony was surprised that Loki took the second oar and began to row. 

Goldie and Penn chatted aimlessly to each other, laughing and snorting. Anthony, however, couldn't find it in himself to pay any attention to their conversation. His thoughts swirled around Amora and her cave; the scenes he had witnessed between her and Loki. He stole a quick glance at the pirate himself, trying his damnedest to be discreet. 

Loki rowed quietly, obviously distracted by his thoughts. He kept time well with Penn even with the silence. Anthony soon found himself nearly openly staring, watching the captain's muscles flex and relax with each pull. He thought back to Amora, to her obvious fixation with the dark haired man - Loki himself had said they grew up together. They were close, and even Loki's usual aloof demeanor seemed to tamper and warm. 

The thought bothered Anthony more than he cared to admit. He had no earthly reasoning as to _why_ it should. Undeniably, the captain was handsome, Anthony had to begrudge him that. His voice ethereal, his touch a strange coolness that always managed to calm Anthony, even unknowingly. What was it, exactly? 

He should be angry - he should be without forgiveness. This man boarded the ship he was on, slaughtered half the crew, and kidnapped him. He should have already been in London for weeks now, let alone the type of parties sent to his rescue. Anthony hoped Jack was able to relay his kidnapping, at least. 

However, other than the unpleasantness that was Gibbs and Grim, Anthony had few complaints. Goldie was kind and thoughtful and seemed to be only tasked in his care, hardly a call away. He had his cot and alcove, his desk, plenty of food - and, more importantly, the blessings of the captain. Which, unnervingly, was beginning to catch his attention. 

The bow of the boat nudged the hull of _Sleipnir,_ jarring Anthony from his thoughts. Penn pulled his oar in and wrapped a rope around a knob in the wood. Goldie took the first rung of the jacob's ladder and hauled himself up. 

"See ye lads aboard!" He called, scrambling up the side. Anthony couldn't help but grin - Goldie was never short of surprises. 

"After you," Loki said. Anthony glanced over and nodded, feeling his neck heat. He had almost been caught in his staring, thankful for their arrival as a deterrent. He quickly took the first rung as Goldie had done, climbing as briskly as he dared. A weight beneath him signaled Loki beginning to climb as well, making Anthony bite his bottom lip. Oh, to lose his footing _now._

"I be off, Cap'n!" Penn called. 

"Fare yourself well, Mr. Penn," Loki answered. Anthony continued to climb, ignoring the flip his belly gave. 

Anthony climbed until he saw a hand jut inches from his nose. He looked up to see Goldie. "Need a lift, mate?" 

Anthony grinned and wrapped his palm around Goldie's forearm. "Aye, mate!" Goldie laughed as he helped to hoist Anthony over the railing and onto the deck. Anthony wavered a moment, not used to moving land so soon. Loki climbed up gracefully a few seconds later without Goldie's help, pausing to unwrap his face. 

"Goldie, with me if you would," Loki muttered, heading towards his quarters. Anthony hesitated, unsure of where that left him. Loki paused and looked back. "You as well." 

Anthony nodded quickly and caught up to Goldie. The old man nudged their shoulders together and smiled. "Now, no questions jus' yet, aye?" 

Anthony resisted rolling his eyes, far beyond his tolerance for more unanswered questions. "Aye." 

"Good!" Goldie answered, standing behind Loki. Loki drew the chain from his neck to show a silver key before slipping it into the lock of his quarters. Anthony mentally shrugged - keeping the key with him made sense. However, there was something _else_ that Anthony couldn't quite make out before Loki slipped the chain back around his neck and dropped it beneath his tunic. 

The door to his quarters swung open, revealing much of what Anthony had seen the last time he had gained entry. Loki stepped in with an audible sigh with Goldie and Anthony close behind him. Anthony had enough sense to close the door once he was in, feeling that whatever was to be done required privacy. 

"On the table, Goldie," Loki said, pointing to one of the few clear spots. Goldie nodded and slipped his pack from his shoulders. It settled against the marked wood carefully as Loki rolled and tucked away the charts surrounding it. Goldie joined him, leaving Anthony to stand awkwardly by the door. Loki glanced up for just a moment before jerking his head towards his left. "You may sit." 

Anthony nodded and bit his lip, slipping around the table to sit where he was allowed. Goldie and Loki finished up quickly and began to unpack Goldie's bag. They started a rhythmic system that Anthony felt honored to see - Goldie took a leather pouch out and passed it to Loki, who turned it over in his palms before setting it down on the table. They did this for ten or more pouches, the piles growing larger or smaller. It was a practiced art, something that had obviously been done countless times. 

When the pitaya joined the pouches on the table, Goldie neatly folded his empty sack and tossed it aside. "Aye, it all be 'ere." 

"Indeed," Loki said, holding up the last pouch. He passed it between both hands as his eyes continued to skim the table. "Amora was well stocked, this bout." 

"Aye." Anthony ignored the flip of his belly at the mention of her name. He could only hope that whatever was going to happen would _hurry up_ so Goldie could explain things to him. His curiosity was gnawing his belly and mind without remorse. 

Loki set the pouch he had aside and moved to his bed, further into the cabin and beneath the thick glass of a wide window against the back wall. He tossed his ruddy hat onto the mattress and dropped to his knees, pulling a long black box from underneath. Anthony tilted his head for better view as he watched the captain lift the box and rest it on his duvet. 

The chest was made of dark wood stained black but trimmed in solid gold, carved beautifully of animals and creatures that Anthony had never seen with his own eyes. It shimmered in the low lighting of the quarters as he shifted it around. Loki turned slightly and caught Anthony's eye, a small smirk touching his lips. 

"Would you like a better view?" He asked lightly. Anthony quickly adverted his gaze, feeling his face heat. 

"Sorry, I just - " 

Anthony felt a nudge on his shoulder from Goldie. "Go on, lad. Ye'll learn soon enuff." 

Goldie smiled his bright smile at Anthony and winked, nudging him again to stand. He crossed the few feet between himself and Loki and stood to the captain's left. Loki took a half step aside to allow Anthony a better view as he lifted the lid. 

Anthony watched as Loki set aside quills and ink bottles, fresh feathers and gold chain, several pouches full of what sounded like coin and - the sight of which made Anthony's pulse quicken - a human skull. Loki set each carefully across the duvet and dropped his palms to what appeared to be the bottom of the chest. Anthony raised an eyebrow. 

"False bottom?" He asked as Loki pressed a little harder. The captain merely smirked in response as the bottom gave way with a soft _click._ Loki removed his knife from his boot and wedged it beneath the solid wooden plank to lift it free. Once it was removed altogether Anthony could now see the true nature of the chest. 

It was divided into fifteen sections, each with a lid and small lock. Below the lock were glued bits of parchment with words scrawled across in what Anthony imagined to be Loki's handwriting. Neat, slanted, and ornate, a far cry from the scrawl he still used that his tutors very much were shamed by. 

Loki trailed his index finger along the inside of the lid, equally as dark as the outside, until a small pressure point popped a drawer beneath the main lock. Anthony watched with delight as Loki spun the drawer around to produce a single small skeleton key. He was grinning by the time he had Loki's full attention. 

"I imagined you would delight in this contraption," Loki said, the pride evident in his voice. Anthony turned his grin to him and nodded. 

"The false bottom, the spring loaded drawer, the closed pockets underneath - I would be willing to bet that the entire mechanism is connected by a simple pulley system trailed along the main hinges right..." Anthony leaned forward slightly and could just catch the shimmer of the brass wire weaved into the hinge as a beautiful disguise. _"Here._ Why, I haven't seen craftsmanship of this style in years. There was a man a few villages outside of my home that used to sell chests like these to my father. He moved, some time ago - " 

"To Scandinavia," Loki finished, his voice low. Anthony blinked at him, his grin softening. 

"Yes," Anthony said. "This is his work, then." 

"It is," Loki answered. "My mother was a close friend of his. He made this for her, a one of a kind symbol of their everlasting friendship before he passed, which she bestowed to me before her own passing." 

Anthony felt his brows furrow. "I am sorry for your loss." Somehow, hearing that Loki had once had a mother that had cared for him as Maria had once cared for Anthony made the pirate seem more approachable, more human. 

"I am not," Loki said softly. He carefully began to unlock and lift each lid as he spoke. "She was not treated fairly during the later years of her life. It is a shame that all I have left of her are memories and a simple box, but she is at peace in a realm where none of the demons of this world may harm her." 

Anthony wanted to ask what Loki meant by that, but the opening of each lid brought with it scents that immediately assaulted his mind and body, causing a dizzying effect that he had not felt since he had stepped into Amora's cave. He pressed his palm to his forehead and swayed, reaching for anything to brace himself with. The closest thing was Loki's arm, which immediately drew the captain's attention. He abandoned the lids and wrapped his arm around Anthony's waist just in time for the inventor's knees to buckle beneath him. 

"Goldie," Loki said briskly. "The chair, if you would." 

A few seconds later and Loki was depositing Anthony to the chair he had occupied earlier, carefully pressing him against the back rest. "Relax, now. I should have warned you to not breathe so deeply. I apologize." 

Anthony shook his head in protest, waving a hand in the air towards Loki, and oddly enough, not remembering when a second crept into his subconscious. "S'fine. Carry on." Both images of Loki stared at him for just a moment before the second fused to the first and Anthony giggled. 

"Well, Cap'n - not exactly th' plan," Goldie said, the amusement in his voice clear. Loki rolled his eyes and turned back to the chest. 

"It shall end soon enough. Please make sure he does not vomit on my rugs," Loki answered offhandedly. Goldie chuckled but dropped a hand to Anthony's shoulder. 

"Aye, lad. Lookit ol' Goldie now." 

Anthony did as he was told and kept his gaze on the old pirate, his features growing and shifting with each breath. After what felt like ages his senses came back to him, his breathing evening slowly and his mind no longer reeling. 

"What on _earth?"_ Anthony groaned, shaking his head for good measure. Loki stood over the table with the herbs and glanced back at Anthony. The captain was free of that ruddy hat, yes, but his long hair was still drawn back in a bun. Since losing the hat, some of his hair had escaped to trail along his face and neck. Anthony had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat. Loki was sinfully handsome. 

"You simply breathed too deep of too many herbs," Loki answered. He drew up one of the smaller piles from the table and crossed to the chest; Loki kept all but one out as he put the rest in, pausing to free the twine keeping it closed and held it out towards Anthony. "This is fine alone." 

Anthony looked first at the pouch then at Loki. "Should I ask if this is safe?" 

Loki's answering smile was mischievous at best. "Dare I ask you to trust me, my lord?" 

Anthony immediately closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, hoping to use the calming treatment to still the wild racing of his pulse. After a second of silence, he leaned forward slightly and carefully inhaled the contents of the pouch. 

Anthony's eyes snapped open. "Mint." 

"Indeed," Loki answered, twisting the twine to close the pouch and tucking it away. "I am sure Goldie has shared with you our secret concoction." 

"Aye!" Goldie chirped, having moved closer to the table in the centre. "Loved it, 'e did." 

"It was quite original," Anthony answered. Loki smiled over his shoulder at Goldie. 

"I would expect no less of a man of Goldie's calibre." 

"Oi, now, Cap'n!" 

Loki began to show each and every herb they had gathered to Anthony, explaining the purpose of each. The gilliflower was a beautiful white flower that smelled wonderful and was used for protection and strength. The elder was what Anthony had suspected, to induce sleep. Loki also explained the poisonous attribute that elder possessed if too much were to be ingested. Anthony was delighted to find fresh coffee beans, a real treat that he hadn't had the option to enjoy since his time at sea. 

The pouch that Anthony had seen Loki swipe was deposited into the chest without explanation and locked carefully away. "What was that one?" Anthony asked, unable to help his brazenness. 

Loki flicked his gaze over to Goldie before setting on Anthony. "In time, my lord," he answered softly. There was an underlying tone to his voice that stopped Anthony from asking any further. "For now, I am more concerned for your health." 

The table was cleared of all but one pouch. Loki put the final pouches away and sealed up the chest, placing the false bottom back and adding in all the miscellaneous items that hid the secret from the world beyond, including the hat. Once the chest was back below the bed, Loki held his hand out to Anthony. "Come along, now. This will only take a moment." 

Anthony nodded and took Loki's offered hand, allowing the captain to pull him to his feet. They crossed to the table and stood next to Goldie. Loki released his hand and grabbed the pouch, moving to gather a pestle and mortar from the shelves above the rolled charts and parchment. He moved back to the table and dumped the contents of the pouch into the mortar before tossing the it aside. 

The smell of vegetation and newly unearthed weeds rose to Anthony's nose. It was acidic and sharp, making his lip curl and the urge to sneeze strong. Goldie dropped a palm to his shoulder and squeezed. "Now, ye ready fer sumthin' _amazing?"_

Anthony felt himself nodding before he could stop, the inventor in him bristling with curiosity. "What is in?" 

"Goldie ain't spoilin' nuthin'!" The old pirate chortled. Loki smirked as he ground the roots and leaves from the pouch together, making a mixture that seemed the constancy of sediment dredged along a beach by the tides. He continued to ground for a moment longer before setting aside the pestle. It rolled slightly with the shift of the ship until it settled into a shallow divot. 

Loki held the mortar in one hand as he slipped the other into his tunic, drawing forth the chain. Anthony could now see the silver key as well as a small locket. The captain opened the locket and took a quick breath before shutting it with a loud _snap._ The chain was dropped back to its hidden home and the fingertips that once held it brought to the captain's lips. Loki carefully released his breath and with it most of Anthony's belief in the world's sciences. 

Loki's fingertips glowed a bright green that Anthony noted matched his eyes. The effect was only for a split second before the colour was replaced by a flame, young and bright, that licked at Loki's fingertips. Anthony felt floored - he could clearly see the fire there, inches from Loki's face and dancing now in his palm, but he had no answer. Whatever was within that locket had given the Pirate Captain Loki Laufey the ability to _breathe fire._ No, Anthony had no answer for any of it; he could only simply marvel. 

Goldie, on the other hand, was beside himself with joy. He sighed softly and shook his head. "O' all th' times I see it, the Cap'n _still_ amazes me." 

Anthony watched as Loki snapped his fingers and directed the flame to the mortar in his other palm. The fire quite literally _jumped_ over, as if it's only lot in life was to please Loki. The action caused the contents of the mortar to burst and crackle first a green to match Loki's original light show before settling on a soft magenta. The flames died within just a few seconds, leaving a soft ever burning ember in the mortar that wafted up magenta smoke. 

"This is banewort, as Amora called it. To others, it can be called sorcerer's berry, Death's Herb, deadly nightshade - but for you, my lord, you may know it as _belladonna,"_ Loki said, placing his other hand over the mortar and turning towards the inventor fully. It trapped in all the smoke, leaving the air between them electrified. Anthony could only nod. 

"It helps sickness," Loki continued. "While it is indeed poisonous, as per the names bequeathed to it, the medicinal properties largely outweigh the negatives. Should the user exercise caution, no harm will befall any connected parties." 

Anthony couldn't help but feel nervous. "Dangerous if ingested." 

"Correct," Loki answered. "Both the items used to work it and myself must be cleansed, but you shall be healed within a few hours." 

After a moment, Anthony nodded quickly. "Get it over with, then." 

"Aye," Goldie said, squeezing Anthony's shoulder again for comfort. "The Cap'n 'as ye, lad. See ye soon." Anthony watched the old man head for the door, soon leaving him alone with Loki. The thought alone made his breath quicken. 

Loki stepped closer to Anthony. "I would not do anything to harm you." 

For reasons Anthony couldn't explain, he nodded. "I know." He knew somehow that he was correct. Were Loki the unforgiving type and as brutal as his namesake suggested, he surely wouldn't have gone out of his way to cater to whatever he felt Anthony needed. If Loki felt this treatment was safe, then Anthony had to believe him. 

Besides, he suddenly didn't want to anger a man who could literally breathe and control fire. 

"You may begin to feel faint," Loki said. His voice was low and words soft, now suddenly intimate without Goldie as an audience. Anthony swallowed and nodded. "Breathe deeply, slowly. I am here." 

"Alright," Anthony answered. His tone was beginning to match Loki's as the captain continued to move closer. He was only a foot away, the sealed mortar the only thing between them. Loki brought his hands nearly level to Anthony's shoulder and removed his hand. The smoke rose freely and twirled around them both; Loki set aside the mortar and caught a thick cloud of the smoke between his palms, obviously still in tune with whatever gift had allowed him to control the fire. 

"Breathe deep," Loki said again. He brought his clasped hands to his mouth and opened, blowing the smoke towards Anthony. 

Anthony did as he was told, breathing in as slowly and deeply as he could. First he felt the coolness of Loki's breath on his face, the smell slightly minty with undertones of the stolen square of pitaya, before the same smell of the roots and leaves followed. The smoke was now a pastel pink and acidic; it made his eyes water. Still he breathed in, his lungs burning slightly as he did so, before he had to shut his eyes against the sting. 

He could feel Loki standing still before him, just a short reach away. Anthony coughed and stepped forward, feeling Loki's hand on his shoulder to steady him. Even the cool grounding of Loki's grip couldn't stop him from rocking, the blackness beneath his eyelids spinning faster and faster as if he had just left a pub with far too much drink in his system. Then the headache came. 

The pain was so sharp and sudden that Anthony whimpered, bringing a palm to his eyes. He began to tremble, feeling flashbacks of that day on the _Cavalier,_ the last time he saw Jack and the first time he saw Loki. He had looked so different then, so _vicious._ Not at all like the man standing before him, helping him, _healing_ him; not the man that was far too kind to his crew and far too kind to Anthony. No one was ever kind without a reason - even Jack had been annoyed by Anthony at the start, his mind and mouth too much for most. 

Not Loki. He was too kind, and Anthony suddenly couldn't remember why he hadn't told him his name. Anthony reached out, his eyes still closed, as his legs shook beneath him from a great burden. Obviously under the burden of himself, but his hands found Loki and clenched at his tunic. His head was _pounding._

_"Loki,"_ he croaked, his own voice sounded foreign to his ears. Loki's hand tightened on his shoulder, and Anthony vaguely recognized the sound of the mortar on the table and Loki's other hand resting on his shoulder. 

"It is nearly over," Loki answered, or that's what it sounded like. Anthony's headache had increased tenfold and his ears felt clogged with the sound of his own blood rushing. "Do not forget to breathe." 

Anthony had, and with that guidance his pain eased slightly. Still he could not stand on his own and he needed to tell Loki. "Loki... _hurts."_

"I know," Loki said, his voice sounding distant and very close all in the same. Anthony clenched tighter at his tunic and pulled, suddenly assaulted by Loki's cool skin. 

Anthony pressed his face against what he guessed was the crook of the captain's neck, Loki's skin smooth and cool against his burning skin. Anthony sighed softly but didn't release his grip on the tunic, feeling a warmth beneath the initial cooling touch. A scarce moment passed before Loki's hands moved from Anthony's shoulders to a more comfortable embrace. He settled a hand in Anthony's sweaty hair and pressed his lips to the inventor's temple. 

_"Relax,"_ he whispered against Anthony's skin. His breath tickled and distracted Anthony from his spinning and burning world, reignited the smell of mint. The captain smelled like mint and ink with a touch of something Anthony couldn't quite place. He hoped he would have another chance to be able to. 

Loki continued to mutter against his skin, his lips moving softly and sending a shiver down Anthony's spine. Despite the overwhelming and building pain it was comfortable and soothing. Anthony wanted to drift to sleep to it, and his body seemed to want to agree. 

"Anthony," he muttered, wondering if his beard was rough against Loki's pale skin. "My...name, it's _Anthony."_

Loki seemed to hold tighter, but it happened to be timed with the room spinning sharply. Anthony wasn't sure if it was to hold him up or because of what he said, but he was far from caring. He could feel his body grow heavier and heavier and, were it not for Loki's strong embrace, he certainly knew he would have fallen onto the rugs. 

"Your body is in need of rest," Loki said. Anthony could only nod. He was useless as Loki guided the pair of them to his bed. The entire world continued to spin as Anthony listened to the rustling of the duvet being moved and pillows being settled. He didn't realize he was lying down until he opened his eyes and saw Loki leaning over him, concern writ clear as day upon his features. 

"Perhaps I was too ambitious," the captain said. Anthony closed his eyes again and yawned. "You were not yet ready." 

"M'fine," he mumbled. Loki chuckled above him as he pulled the boots free from Anthony's feet. The duvet was stretched over him comfortably soon after and Anthony settled quickly. 

"Obviously," the captain answered with amusement. Anthony's lids grew heavy again as he smiled. 

"Yeah," he drawled. "Tired though." He paused. "Your bed is much better than mine." 

That earned Anthony a rare laugh, making his belly feel warm. "Sleep, then." 

Anthony nodded and turned his face into one of the captain's pillows. Mint and ink. _"Yeah."_

He listened to Loki move across the cabin. There were soft thuds of his boots and cutlass being dropped on the rugs, the rustling of fabric as he untied his emerald sash and pulled the tunic over his head, and finally a metallic clink of the pistol that had been tucked in the front of his trousers being set on the table. Anthony lolled his head over and drew the duvet to his nose. 

Loki had his back to him, entirely bare without his tunic. His skin was evenly pale across his entire back, and Anthony couldn't see a single scar or imperfection. His muscles bunched and tightened as he reached back for his hair, still in the bun. The bangles and leather cuffs around his wrists slid down as he worked the ribbon free. Loki's slim form really did belie his true strength, of which Anthony was no stranger to. Loki must have felt Anthony's staring - he glanced over his shoulder just as his hair fell free and smirked. Anthony swallowed audibly. 

"Sleep, my lord," Loki said softly. Anthony closed his eyes and took a ragged breath, entirely content with doing what he was told for once. 

* * *

Loki glanced over his shoulder one last time as he closed the door to his quarters. Anthony was sound asleep, merely seconds after being told the second time. Loki couldn't help but smile - it seemed the inventor was coming around slowly, but surely. 

"'Ow is 'e?" Loki turned to see Goldie, leaning against the stairs to the helm. 

"Exhausted," Loki answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His locket and key dangled near his naval. "I believe I may have misjudged his endurance." 

"Ah, oh well," Goldie said with a shrug. "Ifin' 'e's stayin' aboard, 'e needs t' git o'er it." 

Loki smirked. "Why Goldie - I have never known you to be poetic." 

The old pirate shrugged again. "An' ye ne'er _will."_

Loki chuckled at that, smiling broadly at his longtime friend. Goldie must have recognized his joy to stem from elsewhere and coughed. "Wot's goin' on in 'at 'ead o' yers, Loki?" 

"He told me his _name,"_ Loki answered. Goldie's grin stretched. 

"Wot? Well, I'll be _damned._ 'ad no clue it'd be s' _soon."_

"Nor I, dearest Goldie," Loki said. Goldie chuckled and scratched his chin. 

"Guess yer gettin' thro' much faster 'is time." 

"Aye!" Loki called with a wave. He swung himself up onto the stairs behind Goldie and headed for the helm. The wood was warm beneath his bare feet. "Now, pardon me while I wash the belladonna from my soul." 

Goldie dodged Loki's hand as he went to pat his shoulder. _"Oi!_ Keep 'at shit away from me an' begone!" 

Loki chuckled at Goldie's outburst. They both knew Loki's touch was harmless; he did quite mean his soul. The belladonna was only meant to react to the person intended and not the caster, but Loki had not expected to spend so much time in contact with Anthony and now could feel the herb beginning to take hold. He grabbed the nearest rope of rigging and climbed up, higher and higher until he had a clear path to the bay, clear of his own deck and that of another. 

With a salute to Goldie, Loki launched himself backwards into an elegant dive and splashed into the Caribbean Sea. He could already feel the healing touch of natural water on his being, and when he opened his eyes he grasped for his locket floating inches before his face. With a soft flick, the metal oval opened and a warm green light embraced him like sunshine. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Got to see a little bit of what Loki's about. That locket is pretty interesting, huh? ;) Please tell me your thoughts and feelings. :)


	10. Scrambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony awakens in the captain's quarters, slightly confused by how he arrived and what transpired. He has little time to decipher, however, before the race up the rigging begins between Penn and Loki.

* * *

Anthony woke up some time later, unsure of what had transpired in his slumber. He blinked blearily, clearing the fog from his mind. Sunlight filtered through the glass behind him, shining over dark rugs. He blinked again, seeing now a table with parchment spread across and a pistol. He recognized that pistol. 

Anthony sat up with a start and felt his face heat. That was one of Loki's guns. Those were Loki's rugs, and that was Loki's coat hanging beside the bed. _He was sleeping in the captain's quarters._

Thankfully he was alone, meaning no one saw the mild panic attack he suffered from. Anthony gasped and looked around, expecting someone to be there regardless. Neither Goldie nor (more importantly) the captain was in sight. With a sigh, he fell back into the pillows. They fluffed under his weight before he sat up suddenly again. No sagging on the captain's pillows; it was bad enough that he likely drooled on them. 

Anthony rose and noticed he still wore his clothing from the day before. As he set about to make Loki's bed, hoping it would be the silent apology he didn't think he could vocalize, he recounted what he could. 

Amora, he remembered without trouble - thinking of her actually made his stomach knot. He remembered the fort and Loki's bravado nearly getting him killed; the trip back; the conversation between he and Loki about the chest beneath his bed. Then the smoke, magenta and thick - how he clung to Loki during the worst of it, his head spinning and his body feeling like he had endured too much drink for days. Then, sleep. 

Anthony sighed. There was no way he could talk his way out of the clamouring all over Loki, but from what he remembered the captain didn't seem to mind. Perhaps, if he could avoid him for a little while, it would all blow over and words would not need to be exchanged. 

The door behind him opening immediately quelled all hope he held. Anthony turned to see the captain himself in the doorway, not even hesitating after he saw Anthony up. 

"Good day," Loki said, shutting the door behind him. He wore dark leather pants and boots with the ever-present emerald sash around his waist. Anthony noticed the chain around his neck that dangled beneath his tunic, the captain's chest exposed per usual. The sight of it reminded Anthony of Loki's sudden ability to _control fire,_ and his greeting died on his lips. 

"Are you well?" Loki asked, his voice venturing on concerned. His brows furrowed as Anthony nodded vehemently. Loki crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping directly before him. He pressed his wrist to Anthony's forehead, first shaking away a few of his many bangles. He paused, closing his eyes. "Your fever has fled. That is good news." Loki opened his eyes and smiled softly. 

"Ah, indeed," Anthony answered flatly. Loki's smile seemed to grow. 

"Then all is well," he said, stepping away from Anthony to move towards the table. "How was your rest? Did you enjoy my bed for the evening?" 

_Evening?_ Meaning Anthony slept away the entire night and, judging by the sun, half of the morning? "Very comfortable," he answered honestly. "I understand well the privileges of being captain." 

Loki chuckled, his gaze on a map as he smoothed down the edges. "It has its advantages." 

Anthony grinned quickly, feeling his embarrassment fade. It really wasn't so bad, he supposed. He had woken alone and well rested, the best sleep he had actually had since his heat fever began. Anthony looked over Loki as he stared at the map. He did feel the need to apologize for taking his bed for the night, regardless of how comfortable or welcome he was to it. 

"I do apologize," Anthony began, drawing Loki's sharp gaze. "For stealing your bed. Where did you sleep?" 

"I didn't," Loki answered simply. Guilt immediately gnawed at Anthony's gut, which in turn showed on his face. Loki smiled softly again. "Do not fret. Sleep is not something that I need regularly. You were not overstepping." 

"But - ," Anthony protested, stopping when Loki shook his head. 

"Nothing of the sort," Loki said, leaning his hip against the table and folding his arms over his chest. "My lord need not want for worry." 

Anthony felt heat steal up his neck but attempted to ignore it. "What did you do, then, if not sleep?" 

"I kept watch over the crew still aboard," Loki answered, turning back to the parchments. "Entertained Goldie whilst you slept, and saw to whatever needs you held." 

"You mean you didn't ravage a village?" Anthony teased, feigning shock. Loki passed a sidelong glance at him the flipped his belly. 

"Not without your oversight, my lord," Loki answered easily. Anthony grinned quickly. The title was growing on him, oddly enough, among other assets the captain offered. 

"Regardless," Anthony began, shifting his weight. He felt himself relaxing more and more in the presence of the captain. He offhandedly wondered at the reason, but for the time being he would simply accept it. "Thank you." 

Loki turned fully to face him again, a soft smile tilting his lips. "May I request all pleasure?" 

Anthony felt heat curl up his neck again. "You may." 

"Then the pleasure is mine, my lord," he answered. All Anthony could do was nod. Loki's gaze lingered a moment longer before turning back to the tabletop. "You should locate Goldie; speak to him before the others arrive." 

Anthony nodded and headed for the door, walking slightly closer to Loki than perhaps the space allowed. He glanced back for a moment before opening the door; the captain's eyes were on his charts, but Anthony was certain he felt Loki's gaze as he shut the door. 

The sunlight wasn't as blaring as Anthony had expected when he stepped onto the deck. A few members of the crew leaned against the railing and busied themselves with cloudy bottles of spiced rum. Anthony surveyed for Goldie and found him near the helm, speaking to a man Anthony didn't know the name of. 

"Goldie!" He called, stepping lightly up the stairs towards the old man. Goldie turned quickly and smiled, turning back only to dismiss the other pirate. 

"Ahoy, mate!" He called, making Anthony smile. Goldie took his hand once he was within reach, pulling him forward for a quick embrace. "Ye feelin' better?" 

"Aye," Anthony answered. Goldie patted his shoulder and grinned. 

"Good!" Goldie held him at arm's length and quirked an eyebrow. "Oi, lad; ye seen yerself yet?" 

"No," Anthony said suspiciously. "Why?" 

"Well, ye 'ave th' worse case o' sleep'ead ol' Goldie 'as seen in a while," Goldie observed. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Th' _Cap'n_ didn't see ye, aye?" 

"No," Anthony answered quickly, feeling a slight panic take over. "He did. Is it really that bad, Goldie? _Shit."_

Anthony immediately ran both of his hands through his hair, attempting to smooth out whatever Goldie saw. He scratched at his beard and pulled at his vest until he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snigger. Anthony froze. _"Goldie."_

"Aye, mate?" He chirped, the smile evident in his tone. Anthony frowned and turned to look at him. 

"You're an ass," Anthony deadpanned, feeling his neck heat when Goldie immediately began to laugh. 

"Oi, now - 'twas downright _funny_ an' ye know it," Goldie teased, squeezing Anthony's shoulder. "Come along, mate. Me believes th' Cap'n 'as plans fer ye soon." Anthony allowed himself to be led along, across the deck and down to his usual alcove. A part of him had missed it once he was sitting on his own cot, but an even stronger part missed Loki's bed. It was softer and bigger and more of what he was used to, after all. 

Goldie dug through the drawers Anthony had put his things in during his sickness and fished out a plain white tunic and dark trousers. 

"'Ere, lad," he said, tossing the fabrics to Anthony. "Be back wif 'at wash, aye?" 

"Aye," Anthony said, waiting until Goldie closed the small curtain behind him as he left before unbuttoning his vest. The letter for his sister was still there, now wrinkled by his sleep. Anthony twisted his mouth thoughtfully; he had to find a way to pass that along, regardless of whatever trouble it would cause. 

Part of him wanted to ask Loki to deliver it for him, believing the captain would be able to sympathize with his need to reach his sister. Another wanted to keep it safe and secret, away from any other prying eyes. Loki had said he would be allowed time in Havana once he was feeling better - perhaps he could find time to deliver it then? 

Anthony pushed the letter under his mattress and wrapped it in a slight bunching the sheets made. He quickly striped out of his tunic and trousers and exchanged them for the clean Goldie had found. Just as he was finishing up tying off the trousers, Goldie was pulling back the curtain with a familiar goblet in hand. 

"Made fresh fer ye!" Goldie announced, offering the rinse to Anthony. 

"Thank you, Goldie," Anthony said, taking the goblet and draining it. He sighed once he was done, spitting back into the goblet and tossing it from his porthole. "That works wonders." 

"Aye!" Goldie said proudly as he took the goblet back. "Ye 'ave quite a day ahead." 

"What is planned?" Anthony asked, following after Goldie as he hobbled to the galley. 

"Shore leave, fer one," Goldie said. He opened his cabinet and filed away the goblet, turning the key in the lock to keep it sealed. "We git t' go o'er th' ways o' supplies, an' ye be gittin' a shave." 

Anthony subconsciously brought a hand to his chin and rubbed slightly. His Italian was most likely showing through more and more with each passing day. He never knew a man who could grow a beard as quickly as his father could. "That would be nice," he admitted. Goldie nodded and came to stand before him. 

"Where're ye boots, lad?" Goldie asked, prompting Anthony to look down. He frowned, not remembering having taken them off and not noticing them being missing on the deck. 

"I suppose," he began, mumbling. "I suppose in the captain's quarters." 

"Ah," Goldie agreed. "Well, we be off t' git 'em 'fore we go t' 'Avana." Goldie started for the deck with ease; Anthony sighed and set off after him. What must the crew think of him coming out of the captain's quarters after sleeping there, and now having to go back for his boots? Anthony felt his cheeks heat as they stepped into the deck. He knew what it looked like - the housekeeper would often gossip about seeing women leaving a man's home early in the morning wearing the same dress as the night before. Anthony had just done the exact same. 

Even though nothing happened (that he was absolutely _positive_ of), it still looked horrible. Worse still, Loki was heading directly for them with Anthony's boots in hand. 

"Mornin', Cap'n!" Goldie called with a wave. It sounded like he was practically _screaming_ to Anthony. Loki offered a light wave of his own and a smile, patting Goldie on the shoulder before offering Anthony's boots over. 

"I believe these are yours, my lord," Loki said. Anthony nodded and avoided his gaze, thanking him as he took the boots back and hastily pulled them on. He just wanted to jump off the damn ship as he felt the crew glancing at him. 

"Wot's th' plan, Cap'n?" Goldie asked once Anthony was back in the conversation. "Supplies first?" 

"Nay," Loki answered, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked beyond Goldie with a smug smile on his face. "I do believe that is Mr. Penn rowing this way." 

Goldie spun to look towards shore, a broad grin blossoming across his face. "Be damned, it _is!_ Looks like a scramble, lads!" Goldie moved across the deck and cupped his hands to his mouth: "Cap'n an' Penn're 'avin' a row, lads!" 

A collective cheer rose from the crew as Goldie moved about. Loki stood beside Anthony, still wearing his smug smile. "They are quite excited," Anthony observed. Loki chuckled and nodded. 

"Yes," he answered, glancing at Anthony. "These men have little for enjoyment at sea; I try to indulge them where I can." 

Anthony felt his belly and chest warm at Loki's kindness. "What _do_ they do?" 

"Shanties, mostly," Loki answered. "It helps with the morale of my men, as does gambling below deck. I try to arrange shore time once a month. This has been the longest they have been without." 

"How long do you usually stay?" 

"Days at least, a week at most," Loki answered. A few pirates rushed to the side of the ship, calling down to where Penn was now getting ready to board. "They deserve it." 

Anthony turned to look at Loki now, seeing the smugness had faded to his usual soft smile. The captain turned to catch his gaze and smiled wider. "I will not lose today, my lord; not where you are concerned." 

Anthony felt his belly flip. "It's just a game, right?" 

"Aye," Loki answered, nodding. "To Penn and my crew, it is. To me, I will not allow another man the pleasure." 

Anthony glanced at the captain, his breath quickening when he found those emerald eyes focused on him with clear intent. He had to _know -_ the captain obviously had to _know_ of Anthony's growing attraction to him. He questioned why Anthony was jealous of Amora, he allowed him to cling to him while his mind spiraled out of control, and even allowed him to overtake his bed. Even the _wording_ was becoming obvious. There was no other explanation. 

"Captain!" Anthony blinked, coming back to himself. Penn was crossing over to them with a few other crew members in tow. "You up for this?" 

"As long as the rum has settled in your belly," Loki answered smoothly. "I shan't be the one vomiting across my deck." 

Penn grinned and laughed, his blue eyes shining. "Oi, Captain - I'm flattered by yer concern!" Penn turned to Anthony, then, and winked. "Ye ready to learn from the master, Tony?" 

"If by that you mean _me,"_ Loki interjected with a smirk. "Then, yes. He is." 

A collective 'oooh' traveled across the gathering crew. Penn grinned at Anthony again and clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder. "That rum ration is more than enough fer me; I'll be takin' it kindly." 

Loki's smirk darkened just a fraction as he brushed off Penn's hand. "You can be quite tempting, Arthur - remember that charm when the next woman slaps you for your mouth." 

The crew laughed riotously, Penn joining right along. Anthony couldn't help but grin himself - Loki certainly had a quick wit that the crew _loved._ The captain turned to him and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Stand by the helm; you shall have the best view of Mr. Penn's demise there." 

Penn laughed and threw his arm over Anthony's shoulders. "He can be quite scary, aye?" 

"Ye 'ave no clue," Goldie chimed in as he came to stand by Loki again. "Come along, Tony." Anthony nodded before grinning at Penn. 

"Good luck, Penn." 

"I may just need it," the pirate mock-whispered behind his hand. "The Captain _might_ have it out for me." They both looked to Loki after, Anthony smiling brightly. 

"And to you, Captain," he added as Goldie pulled him along. Loki nodded his head elegantly. 

"My thanks." His tone belied his gratitude, but his expression said he didn't need it. Loki trained his gaze on Penn, his smirk mischievous and dark. Anthony wasn't sure if he should be worried for the other man or not. 

Goldie took them to the helm with a few other crew in tow; it really was the best view. Loki and Penn both stood with their backs to the main mast, facing out to the rigging they intended to climb. Goldie cleared his throat. 

"Oi! First t' th' crow's nest wins!" He bellowed; the crew cheered behind him. He held his hand out to his left and a pistol was placed in it. "On me mark!" Anthony watched as Penn immediately braced himself to start off at a run; Loki, however, still stood straight. 

"One..." Penn held his fingers to the mast and stretched as far as he could. "Two..." Loki still didn't move. Anthony held his breath as Goldie's finger closed over the trigger of the gun. 

A loud shot echoed across the deck followed by a loud cheer from the crew. Loki and Penn were off, sprinting to the railing on their respected sides. Anthony looked from Penn to Loki and back again, not sure which man to watch. The crew was equally divided, one half cheering for Loki while the other called out for Penn. 

Goldie's hand was at his elbow and drawing him close. "Lookit, Tony." 

Anthony looked towards where his head was angled. He saw Loki was already at the top of his chosen rigging and heading towards the next set. He moved beautifully, the wind tossing his black hair like a curtain as he climbed. His figure was so striking against the blue sky that Anthony drew in a sharp breath. 

"Oi Penn!" A man bellowed behind him, drawing his attention to the right. "Careful, lad!" 

Anthony noticed Penn lose his footing for a moment and scrambled to catch himself. He was lowered a few feet but hurried to catch up. Goldie shook his head. "Rule One, Tony - no scramblin' when yer _drunk."_

Anthony blinked - Penn was _drunk?_ Why the hell had he agreed to the climb if he wasn't all there? Why had Loki _allowed_ it? It was clearly dangerous, if him losing his footing a _second_ time wasn't a clear sign. A wave of tension pulsed through the crew as they watched Penn, the joyous attitude dissolving. Penn managed to make it to the top of his side just as a strong gust of wind snapped against him. 

A hush fell over the crew as Penn wavered, his arms flailing to regain his balance. It never came. 

Anthony watched in muted horror as Arthur Penn stumbled for the last time and fell backwards. The crew rushed around him to where Penn would land; Goldie grasped his wrist as Anthony moved to join them, pulling him back. 

"Tony," he whispered and pointed. _"Watch."_

Anthony swallowed and looked away from where Penn seemed to fall in slow motion, his left arm outstretched to catch anything he could. It happened so quickly that, had Anthony blinked, he would have missed it. 

Loki was there; he had been _at the top,_ easily fifty feet higher than Penn, in the crow's nest. There was absolutely no way he could have gotten down there as fast as he had. Anthony swore that one heartbeat he was in the crow's nest and before the very next one even _began_ he was on Penn's level. He drew a blade from his boot and slashed the first rope he grabbed, the blade reflecting brightly in the sunlight. 

Anthony watched Loki press the blade between his teeth and kick away from the mast with his feet. As he moved, the left side of the canvas sail fell down and snapped in the wind, drawing several of the crew's attention. Except that of one man, who clapped and pointed. 

_"It's Captain!"_

A cheer rose from the men as Loki grabbed Penn's outstretched forearm. The pair swung out widely across the water, Penn grabbing Loki's shoulder with his other hand. When they made it back to touch the cross beam of the main mast, Loki held Penn as securely as he had Anthony when he nearly fell off the side of the ship. 

Anthony looked to Goldie, the old man smiling brightly beside him. "Rule Two - _always_ trust th' Cap'n." 

Anthony could only nod slowly as he turned to see the crew clapping and cheering. Loki used his self-installed pulleys to bring he and Penn back to safety. Goldie nudged Anthony, sending the genius off down the stairs of the upper deck to join the crew. 

Loki passed Penn off to Tenny as the rest of the crew crowded in, clapping hands on Loki's shoulders and lightly slapping Penn's back. Tenny kept most of them off until he could get Penn to the railing, where he promptly vomited over the edge. 

Anthony made it through the crowd with more ease than he expected; once a pirate saw him, they moved aside to let him pass. He imagined Loki's attentions helped in more than one way. Anthony made it to Loki as he stepped onto a crate to push his knife back into his boot. 

"Loki," he breathed, drawing the pirate's attention. Loki glanced over to show his attention. "Did you know?" 

"That Arthur was drunk?" Loki deadpanned; Anthony nodded as a few of the lingering crew chuckled. "Aye." 

Anthony furrowed his brow. "Why would you encourage him?" 

"Arthur and I have climbed in worse conditions," Loki answered, stepping down from the crate. "This was just a rather unfortunate circumstance." 

"He could have _died,"_ Anthony hissed, stepping close so only Loki could hear him. He stared up at the captain and frowned. "It could have gone much _worse_ than simply _unfortunate."_

"Alas, it did not," Loki answered coolly, quirking an eyebrow at Anthony's tone. "I will never willingly allow a member of my crew to be harmed." 

"You knew he was drunk, and yet you persisted," Anthony snapped. "That counts as _willingly."_

Loki grabbed Anthony by his bicep and drew him back, forcing him to take each step Loki did. "Let us have privacy, yes?" Before Anthony could even answer, Loki moved his hand to his waist and pulled him flush to his chest as he kicked back on the pulley. Anthony yelped with surprise as they rose, the wood of the mast blurring before him. They stopped as abruptly as they started; Loki released his grip and stepped away to lean against where the mast continued higher to the crew's nest. 

"Please, share your thoughts with me," Loki asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Anthony shook his head to rid himself of the dizziness. 

"Why do you preach safety for these men," he began, taking his breath in shallow gasps. "When you do not _practice_ it?" 

Loki stared at him. "Mr. Penn was well aware of his state and still wished to continue. I gave him his option to wait." 

"No, you - " Anthony paused; Loki _had._ Anthony thought back to their conversation, and remembered Loki clearly giving Penn a chance to back out, even mentioning the drink in his belly. Penn still took it. "You did." 

"Arthur has faith in his abilities, as do I," Loki continued. "He knew he would never be in any real danger." 

Anthony swallowed, feeling his face flush. Loki had done the right thing by believing in his man and humouring him, never more than a step away the entire time to catch him should the worse happen. It did, and he was there. Anthony felt shame at not believing in Loki as Penn obviously had, at his angry outrage. Even Goldie knew Loki wouldn't let anything happen. 

"I apologize, Captain," Anthony said after a moment, his tone serious. Loki stilled as he spoke: "I should have known better than to doubt you." 

"Nay, my lord," Loki answered. "Your concern for Mr. Penn is admirable. It shows me that I have made the correct choice." 

Anthony furrowed his brow in confusion. "What choice?" 

"The choice to share _this_ with you, Anthony." Anthony was surprised that Loki used his name, the first he had since their meeting. Suddenly, the memory of him desperately needing to tell Loki his real name the night before came flooding back and coloured his cheeks as the pirate stepped towards him. 

Loki closed the distance between them in only two strides and wrapped a gentle hand around Anthony's wrist, using that contact to pull him within reach. His hands moved to Anthony's shoulders and spun him gently. "The sight of the world, my lord." 

Anthony's eyes widened as he took in the sight - literally hundreds of ships spread out around them, none the same size as _Sleipnir_ except those of the King's Navy. The sky was a clear blue dotted with scarce clouds, those that were visible light and fluffy. A slight gust traveled around them, no where near the ferocity of the one that had fooled Penn; it merely pulled at Anthony's tucked tunic and his hair. He could just make out Loki's own hair twirling around him from the corner of his eye. 

"It's beautiful," Anthony breathed. Loki's hands fell from his shoulders, making Anthony miss the contact. 

"Indeed," Loki answered, still standing so close Anthony felt his breath ghost across his ear. It sent a shiver down his spine that he valiantly repressed. "Do you understand?" 

Anthony licked his lips and looked over his shoulder at Loki. "Understand what?" 

Loki caught Anthony's eyes and smiled softly. Anthony was beginning to believe it was reserved for only his view, and the tone that followed only for his ears: "That I would never allow another man this pleasure." 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, Loki's putting on the moves! Kind of. :P Let me know what you thought!!


	11. Shore Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Goldie go to shore without Loki as Havana grows dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, right?! haha! :)

* * *

Anthony had to pry his eyes away from Loki; the captain's gaze was so promising and full of intent that it frightened him. He glanced again out at the world beyond, at the shipyard and the shores of Havana. He could still feel Loki behind him with a presence so sure that Anthony felt with sudden clarity that he always would be there. Anthony wanted to lean the last space between them and rest against Loki, as he had the night and day before. He selfishly regretted Loki's care and attention while he had been ill; he doubted he'd be graced with it again so soon. 

"After your shore leave," Anthony heard, turning slightly again. Loki wasn't looking at him this time, but at the island beyond. "I shall show you the ropes, so to speak. I believe that in a week's time or less, you shall be able to scramble to the crow's nest without assistance." 

Loki smiled that soft smile and looked upon Anthony again. "How does that sound, my lord?" 

"Wonderful," Anthony breathed, and wasn't at all surprised to find that he meant it. The thought of him being able to scurry up the rigging at his own will was staggering, and Anthony was reminded again at how much freedom he actually had. How much the captain had already taken to him. 

Anthony's belly burned hot with renewed guilt - thinking about his shore leave with Goldie reminded him of his letter to his sister. He had to tell Loki. The captain, he was learning, couldn't be nearly as terrible as the tales said. He was kind, forgiving, and apart from Grim and Gibbs, in quite well with his crew. Almost better than Jack had been aboard the _Cavalier._ Best of all, Loki was so careful with Anthony, who, in all terms and relevancy, was a quite literal stranger. It bothered Anthony to think about how little Loki really knew of him, how much he had been keeping to himself for his own protection. Secrets he kept, but Loki seemed willing to give them freely; however, Anthony felt that if he hinted around, no one other than himself and Goldie would know of the captain's abilities. 

Swallowing his nerves, Anthony decided to confide. He remembered Goldie's warning, about all the betrayal Loki had suffered over time, and Anthony felt he did not want to add to it. 

He shifted until he was facing Loki, catching the captain's attention again. "Loki, there's something I must ask you - " 

"Oi, Cap'n!" Loki turned his eyes from Anthony with slight annoyance. He sighed and took a step closer to the edge of the planks they stood on. 

"What?" He hollered, his tone not hinting at all to the annoyance clearly writ upon his features. Anthony grinned. 

"Shore leave!" Anthony felt like it may have been Goldie, but the wind decided then to pick up and drown out what little he could hear. 

Loki's shoulders dipped a fraction, the grip he had on a rope tightening. "Fine; in a moment!" 

"Wot?" The voice shouted. 

_"In a moment!"_ Loki snapped. Whatever the man on deck did made Loki sigh again. He emphatically waved a hand then pointed his palm down in a _Wait!_ fashion, making Anthony's grin spread. 

When Loki turned to him, his expression was pinched but fond. "Bloody pirates; they can be rather impatient." 

Anthony chuckled. "So I've gathered." 

The sound made Loki's expression soften. "What did you wish to ask me, my lord?" 

Anthony's grin fell slightly. "I - " _Have a sister that's probably dying from despair at not hearing from me._ "Are you coming ashore today, with Goldie and I?" 

Loki shook his head. "I am needed here. I shall meet you at shore to gather the supplies, but today you are under Goldie's care. Will that be alright?" 

Anthony nodded. "Yes, Captain." 

Loki smiled softly, and Anthony's belly churned with renewed guilt and something he couldn't quite name. The captain held his arm open in invitation. "Good; shall we prepare, then?" 

Anthony nodded again and stepped into Loki's offered embrace. He had only a moment to enjoy it, the slight chill and comfort the other man's arm around him brought, before they were again touching down on the deck and Loki was stepping away. 

The one calling had been Goldie, now ambling over to them. "Oi, took ye long 'nuff!" 

Loki laughed. "Aye, the view was spectacular." 

"Cert'nly," Goldie answered dryly, eyeing Anthony as he fought to hide a flush. The old man just grinned and waved him over. "C'm along, lad. Gather yer purse an' coin an' we be off!" 

Anthony nodded and with a final look at Loki, set off below deck. He couldn't explain why he lied at the last moment; it had to be his nerves, but it didn't matter. Anthony was confident that he could give Goldie the slip at some point and drop off his letter to someone with the British Post. After he tied his leather pouch off on his belt, he fished his crumpled letter from beneath his mattress and folded it in half, tucking it this time between his belt and his abdomen. With his shirt properly tucked, he doubted even Loki would be able to tell something was off. 

Once he was back on deck, Goldie and Loki were standing at the railing where they had dropped to a harpooning boat the day before. Anthony trotted over with a grin. 

"I'm all set, Goldie," he announced, drawing their attention. Goldie turned, having his knapsack from the trip to Amora's cave over his shoulder, and grinned back. 

"Aye!" Goldie answered, dropping a palm to his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Shippin' off now, lad. Be seein' ye, Cap'n." 

Loki nodded as Goldie swung himself over the railing and dropped from view, leaving Loki and Anthony alone. 

"Stay close to Goldie, my lord," Loki said, leaning his hip against the wood. "Havana is another place after the sun sets. Should you be separated, make your way to the shore. I will be watching." 

Somehow, that made Anthony's guilt all the more palpable. Loki was...too kind. "Aye, Captain." 

Loki nodded and offered a hand to help Anthony over the railing. "I shall see you soon, then." 

"Yes," Anthony agreed, taking his chill hand and swinging himself around to follow Goldie down. For his third climb down the rope ladder, Anthony felt no more confident. The captain wasn't below him, keeping the damned thing steady, and Anthony realized with a start how much he was already missing Loki's calming presence. He swallowed and forced himself to climb until he could feel the small boat beneath him; once he was seated next to Goldie, the pirate escorting them kicked away from the hull of the _Sleipnir_ and navigated the crowded waters toward shore. Anthony looked back until he couldn't see Loki anymore. 

"Well!" Goldie exclaimed, dropping a hand to Anthony's shoulder. "Ye excited?" 

Anthony forced a grin. "Aye! Mainly to shave off this beard, more than anything." 

Goldie hooted a laugh. "Aye, aye; ye be lookin' a bit gruff." 

"Aye," Anthony answered sourly, making Goldie laugh again. 

"Well, first order o' business'll be yer face, 'en supplies, 'en mor' clothes fer ye," Goldie continued. "Cap'n 'pects us back lil' aft sundown. Won't be a pro'lem." 

Anthony nodded. "I agree." 

The pirate rowing for them was quiet for the entire trip, something Anthony found slightly odd. Even though he still hadn't met all of the crew, he knew them by face and this man wasn't very familiar; in fact, Anthony wasn't sure he'd seen him at all. 

Regardless, Goldie hopped out and helped to brace the boat to a nearby palm tree with the man's help. He waved him off, explaining to meet back right before sundown. The man nodded and hobbled off towards the brothels just on the edge of the village. 

Goldie set off opposite of him, more towards the markets the three of them had walked through the day before. Anthony kept close to Goldie as he did, keeping one eye on the shorter, older man, while he casually looked around for anyone he could slip his letter to. Goldie weaved them through the crowd like an expert, dodging women carrying bags or boxes of goods while children zipped around their feet and freed chickens being herded by scruffy dogs. Anthony came to an abrupt stop behind Goldie, nearly running into the man. 

"'Ere, lad," Goldie said, motioning with his hand. There was an indoor barber, obviously a British-ran business with it's golden English lettering atop of wide swinging sign. "Go on in; ol' Goldie'll wait 'ere." 

Anthony nodded and slipped inside, the interior cool after traveling in direct sunlight. A tall man with a trimmed mustache in a white apron was sweeping in the corner behind the two chairs before mirrors. Anthony suddenly felt quite self-conscious of his ragged appearance, having spent the entirety of three months now at sea. Regardless, he needed a damn shave and this man was going to give it to him. 

"Good afternoon, barber," Anthony called. The man set aside his broom and looked over, a smile beneath his whiskers. 

"Ahoy there, son! Come by for a shave?" The man asked, taking up a nearby towel and tossing it onto his shoulder. 

Anthony nodded. "Aye, please. I have yet to perfect shaving at sea, sir." 

That caused a laugh from the man, right from his belly. He was tall and lean, almost like Loki, but Anthony somehow doubted this man held the strength that Loki did. 

"Come have a seat, then; the shave is three silver, and for an extra penny I can have a hot cloth ready as well," the barber offered as he gathered his tools. 

Anthony sighed as he sank into the seat nearest the door. "You drive a hard bargain, barber, but one I will take." 

The man chuckled again, now closer and gently nudging Anthony's head back and against the headrest. "Very good, sir." 

Anthony almost drifted away while the barber worked; he allowed his head to be turned and coaxed by a gentle hand and the sure strokes of the straight razor, and it was so similar to home that Anthony could feel the prickle of tears behind his eyelids. When the warm towel was pressed against his throat and chin, Anthony didn't want to leave. He reluctantly paid the barber for his time and added an extra silver coin for his tip before thanking him and leaving to join Goldie again. Perhaps he'd be able to purchase his own kit while on shore, and possibly convince Loki to help him. 

The idea of the ruthless pirate having a straight razor so close to his throat should have bothered Anthony, but instead it brought a comfort he hadn't been expecting. He supposed he hadn't been lying when he told Loki he trusted him. 

Goldie gave a low whistle when he saw Anthony approaching. "Damn, Tony! Ye look like a new man!" 

"I feel like it, Goldie," Anthony answered with a grin. He paused, smoothing his hands down his tunic. "D'you think, were I to purchase a kit, that either you or the captain would help me become accustomed to shaving at sea?" 

Goldie smiled slyly at him. "Loki'll be 'appy to 'elp ye, Tony. Jus' ask 'im." 

Anthony shuffled his boots lightly against the dirt path, ducking to hide the flush he felt coming. "I'll pick out a kit, then." 

"Good idea, lad," Goldie said, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, now! Time t' learn a t'ing or two." 

Goldie motioned for Anthony to follow as they set off into the crowds again. Anthony looked around, eyes watching the natives bustle around. Goldie continued on his predetermined path with Anthony only a few paces behind until they moved under the awning of an outdoor market. Anthony's gaze shifted with obvious delight between all the different wares, marveling at how alike everything was to Italy. 

Thinking of his home made him think of his sister, then the letter folded in his waistband. If there were ever a time, the weaves of the market would be it. Anthony stood beside Goldie, peering over the old man's shoulder. "What are you bargaining for?" 

Goldie turned slightly, his gold teeth dim without the sun to light them. "'Ere be cloth fer th' men, fer wound dressin'. Aft' recent journeys, there be less than wantin'." Goldie motioned to get the stall hand's attention. Once he had it, he dropped his hands to the spools of white cloth on the edge of the table and began speaking in Spanish. Anthony just blinked, willing away his surprise. He should have expected as such, given that Goldie apparently handled the ordering for the entire ship, no doubt no matter where they landed. 

Anthony was able to pick up a few words thanks to his Italian, slightly surprised to find that the languages held similarities. _Latin based,_ he reminded himself. 

Goldie fished about in his sack and produced payment before speaking rapidly again and turning away without any cloth. Anthony narrowed his eyes in confusion. 

"You seem to be lacking for your payment, Goldie," he murmured, keeping his voice low between them. 

Goldie hummed. "Not at all, lad. Thar t' drop th' goods at th' shore at sundown. Right 'round when Charlie'll be done at th' whorehouse." 

The answer made Anthony flush darkly, something that Goldie didn't see as he eyed the next few stalls. "We need t' order food, now, Tony. Look fer yerself, too; boots an' clothes an' th' like." 

Anthony nodded and kept up, listening with interest as Goldie spoke to an Englishman about salted pork. They bickered between themselves as Anthony eyed what looked like small bananas nearby. They were plantains, he realized, and briefly remembered having them on his father's plantation. They were sweeter than their larger cousins, and Anthony wondered if Loki would want a few. As Goldie continued his conversation, Anthony stepped over and eyed the fruit. 

"Hullo, sir," a voice greeted, cheerily. Anthony smiled up at the girl behind the stall, her dark hair pulled up beneath a kerchief the same colour as the fruit she sold. "Are you a sailor?" 

Her eyes were almond shaped and as dark as her hair, but brightened when Anthony nodded. She was very obviously Cuban, but there wasn't much of a Spanish influence in her tone. "My father is a sailor for His Royal Majesty; just set out this morn'!" 

Anthony smiled at her despite the flip his belly gave. "You must be proud." 

She nodded eagerly. "I am! His first tour, actually. Mama was sad, but he promised to be back soon." 

Anthony kept his smile in place - her hope was admirable, but he knew what happened at sea. He hoped that her father wouldn't happen upon pirates, and if he did, he prayed it would be painless. She was obviously sweet, smiling at him as he felt the blood rush too quickly in his ears, and she didn't deserve the life of her father possibly taken from her. 

"I'm sure he will be, m'lady," Anthony answered. A surprised flush crept up her tan face, making Anthony's smile more genuine. She looked suddenly younger, and Anthony realized she might actually be younger than he. 

"How old are you?" He heard himself ask. As the girl opened her mouth to answer, a slim older woman moved aside a few crates of fruit behind her and stepped around to stand beside the young girl. 

"Charlotte!" She said, drawing the girl's attention with a smile. 

"Mama!" She answered, throwing her arms around the woman looking over her head at Anthony. She murmured something in Spanish to Charlotte and the girl's arms fell away. 

"How may we help you?" Charlotte's mother asked, her hands tucked into the pockets of the brown dress she wore. Her accent was heavy but Anthony had practice. 

"Ah, three plantains, please," he requested, plucking coin from his purse after she gave him the price. Once he had his fruit in hand he smiled at Charlotte and her mother. 

"Thank you, ladies," he said with a slight bow; he noticed Goldie ambling up to him and turned towards him. 

"Oi, Tony! Ye should be payin' 'tention, lad!" Goldie huffed, accepting the fruit Anthony offered as an apology. 

"Sorry, Goldie; these caught my eye, and I thought the Captain - " Goldie's expression softened as he put the fruit into his knapsack. 

"Aye, lad; come 'long, then." Goldie nodded at the women still watching them and grabbed Anthony's shoulder. Anthony offered a wave as he was pulled away, smiling when Charlotte and her mother waved back. 

Anthony had little time to dwell on thinking about his new friend - Goldie drug him from stall to stall, pointing out needs for the ship or crew and walking him through how to order in bulk and have it delivered without spending too much of their budget. Anthony kept his attention on his tasks, deviating only when he found something of interest for himself. He purchased another set of boots and a few more changes of clothing, feeling more than slightly spoiled when he knew that the other members of the crew probably wore the same thing day in and day out. Still, Anthony wanted to keep some level of comfort for himself while at sea. He even was able to find a decent shaving kit with Goldie's help, adding it to the order to be dropped on shore with several barrels of biscuits and fresh water. 

The sun was beginning to dip low over the horizon, skimming bright colours across the sky and orange sunlight through the market. Goldie and Anthony had paused to eat their share of the fruit Anthony purchased from Charlotte, and now tossed the peels into a nearby pigpen. "We 'ave one more stop, Tony." 

Anthony nodded. "Alright. Where?" 

"The bars, lad," Goldie said with a wink. "Gotta order th' lifeblood o' th' crew." 

Anthony laughed once he realized what Goldie meant. "Rum?" 

"Aye, lad. Rum." 

Anthony followed behind Goldie and skimmed the crowds. There had been a suspicious lack of redcoats during their shore leave, making Anthony nervous. No doubt Goldie was just good at avoiding trouble, but Anthony still had a letter to deliver. He hoped that there would be guards at the bar - there should be, at least, what with all the sailors crawling around. 

Goldie lead Anthony to an outdoor bar surrounded by worn tables and benches on their last legs, quite literally. He eyed the patrons, some falling off their seats while others clung to whatever they could to remain upright. There was a general jovial air, but Anthony still walked closer to Goldie than perhaps required. 

"Tony," Goldie murmured, grabbed his forearm. "Ye stick close, 'ear?" 

Anthony nodded. "Absolutely." 

Goldie nodded and dropped his grip, setting officially into the bar proper. Beneath the main awning of the shack was a gruff older man with a thick beard and arms as thick as barrels, shouting at a drunk to get out before he had to offer his help. The drunk stumbled off, slamming into a pillar on his way; Goldie grinned as the barkeep looked at them, his demeanor changing immediately. 

"Goldie, ya old man!" He announced loudly with a guffaw. "Yer still kickin' I see!" 

"Aye, James! Ye kno' it be hard t' get rid o' ol' Goldie!" Goldie answered, moving closer to the wooden bar. Anthony trailed behind him. 

"T' what do I owe this pleasure?" James asked. Goldie pulled himself up onto a stool and motioned at Anthony to join him. 

"Th' usual, James," Goldie said as Anthony sat to his right. "An' train' a new recruit." 

"That Cap'n o' yers takin' a new crew?" James asked as he poured two mugs and slid one to Goldie. 

Goldie shook his head. "Nay, jus' 'is lad." He gestured to Anthony. 

James looked at Anthony for the first time, and Anthony got the distinct feeling he was being appraised. "Aye, I see. He's a bit scrawny, Goldie." 

Anthony felt a frown twist his lips, even as Goldie laughed. "Fer now! 'E's a good lad, James. 'E'll grow into it." 

Anthony wanted to ask what Goldie meant but decided to just wait until there wasn't an audience. James laughed with Goldie and together they took a drink from their mugs. Anthony looked around the bar at the other patrons as Goldie continued with his conversation, now moving towards purchasing barrels of James' finest. 

Anthony noticed a barmaid cleaning up a few tables feet away. Her hair was unusual for this part of the world, the brightest red Anthony had ever seen, swept back by a silver buckle. She was petite and pale, and Anthony imagined she was beautiful. She kept her back to him as she cleaned until James called out. 

"Natalie!" She turned, and Anthony blinked. He'd been right. "C'mere, lass!" 

"She new?" Anthony heard Goldie ask. He turned to see James nodded. 

"Temporary, aye. She's jus' waitin' for someone to come through th' next few days. Says she just needs a little work; she can handle herself well an' is trustworthy, so she stays." 

Anthony looked at the worn wood as she walked behind the bar. "Aye, James?" Her voice was slightly raspy but lovely and Anthony looked up to see green eyes shift to him. 

"Watch th' bar lass; I've got business to deal," James answered, gesturing to Goldie to come with him. Goldie turned to Anthony. 

"Stay 'ere, Tony; be right back," he whispered, waiting until Anthony nodded. He slid from the stool after putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder to steady himself. Anthony watched until James and Goldie disappeared behind the back of the shack that must have been the bar's storeroom. He swallowed and turned to Natalie, who cleaned a few tin mugs before him. 

"Ah, Natalie?" He asked, keeping his voice low. She looked up, her eyes sharp and questioning. Anthony felt his face heat - it was now or never. He had no idea how long Goldie would be gone. "May I ask a favour? I promise to pay you well for it." 

Natalie set down the rag and mug she held and rested her hands on her hips. "I'm listening," she said after a moment. 

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out the letter from hiding and smoothed it out on the bar. "I'm in a slight predicament, and I need to get this letter to Italy without anyone knowing. I cannot get away to find the post myself. Would you be able to do so for me? Please, it is very, _very_ important that my sister gets this letter. I'm worried she thinks I'm dead." 

Anthony watched Natalie's face shift from guarded to pity at the mention of his sister. She looked around the way Goldie and James went before quickly motioning to the letter. Anthony smiled and passed it over. "How much?" 

Natalie shook her head. "I'll do it for free, lad. It's the least I can do." 

Anthony nodded, feeling his eyes prickle with unshed tears. Finally, he could get word to his sister. He hoped she hadn't worried for too long. "Thank you. At least let me tip you, for your work." 

Natalie shrugged but accepted the coin Anthony put on the bar. She looked behind him, then, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We don't serve your kind here, sir." 

Anthony frowned but turned to see the man Goldie called Charlie standing behind him. His blond hair was obviously rucked over and his clothes disheveled; the rouge on his neck reminded Anthony of where he had been and what that mark meant. He felt heat steal up his neck as Charlie leered at Natalie. 

"I bet a barmaid like _you_ would turn coin faster if you did," he answered, and Anthony shook his head. He watched Natalie's hand clench into a fist and remembered James saying she could handle herself. No doubt he meant against fools like Charlie. She tucked Anthony's letter away in her apron before taking up her rag again. "How about you do us both a favour and leave before I _make_ you." 

Charlie held his hands up with a smirk; the motion carried the perfume still clinging to him over to Anthony and made his eyes water. "No need, lass. Just here for this lad." He looked down at Anthony. "Goldie sent me for you. Said to meet him at the shore; the barkeep is having him help with the barrels." 

Anthony nodded, too eager to be back on the ship and away from the seedy bar. He turned back to Natalie and smiled. "Thank you, again. Take care." 

"You, too," she answered with a small smile of her own. 

Anthony nodded again, his heart feeling lighter than it had been in ages. He was glad to be able to get his letter out, and hopefully James had been truthful about Natalie being trustworthy. No part of her demeanor made Anthony feel less about her; he simply had to believe. 

Charlie walked them out of the bar and back to the dirt paths of Havana. He drifted between the brick and wood housing and buildings listlessly, as if he weren't in any kind of hurry whatsoever. Anthony kept close behind him to not become lost. 

"Charlie, is your name, yes?" Anthony asked after a few minutes of silence passed. 

"Aye," Charlie answered. Anthony waited, expecting more conversation, but Charlie offered little in the way of companionship. Even Gibbs spoke more to him. 

"I don't believe I've met you before," Anthony pressed. He was beginning to feel uneasy; the sun was setting faster and faster, the shadows of Havana stretching into dark and twisted shapes. 

_Havana can be quite dangerous without the sun's guidance,_ Loki had warned. Anthony was beginning to feel it. 

"Spend a lot of time in the nest," Charlie answered flippantly. Anthony nodded to himself and made a vague sound of agreeance. Even after the day Charlie obviously had he didn't seem to want to speak; no man Anthony had ever met kept quiet about his conquests, but Charlie seemed to be a man of few words. Anthony hadn't enjoyed the way he spoke to Natalie, but Charlie was also a pirate, and even being one of Loki's crew, couldn't be entirely chaste. He had Gibbs and Grim as examples to that clause. 

The foliage was beginning to thicken and Anthony stumbled slightly over roots he couldn't see. He swallowed. Something was wrong. 

"Ah, Charlie?" Anthony said as casually as he could. He hoped his fear wasn't too palpable. "Where did Goldie say we were meeting him?" 

"Shore." 

"Right, and this doesn't look like the shore." 

Charlie just shrugged. Anthony stopped; Charlie stopped. 

"Where's Goldie?" Anthony asked, his hands clenching by his sides. Charlie just stared at him, his head tilted oddly to the side. When he didn't answer, Anthony swallowed. 

"You never spoke to Goldie." Charlie's light sigh sent Anthony's panic into overdrive. 

"Nah." Suddenly, Charlie was in his space with a speed that was almost frightening. Anthony took a quick step back to avoid Charlie as best as possible but the limited lighting and Charlie's inhuman reflexes prevented him from getting more than a foot away. Charlie wrapped a firm hand around Anthony's bicep and tightened his grip. 

"The old man's prolly lookin' for you now," Charlie said by way of answer, and the finality of his tone made a tremor of dread race through Anthony. "Gotta hurry, now." 

He began to pull, but Anthony dug the heels of his boots into the dirt beneath him and pulled at Charlie's grip. It was painful, but Anthony imagined he would accept that over whatever Charlie seemed to have planned. 

Charlie stopped pulling, and Anthony felt a glimmer of hope surge through him briefly before he heard rather than saw Charlie shift his stance and stand behind Anthony, his hand now on his shoulder and also pressing a blade to the nape of Anthony's neck. 

Anthony froze. 

"Now, listen," Charlie murmured, his breath hot on Anthony's neck. "Move or I'll make you, and neither of us wants that, lad. Understood?" Anthony gave a weak nod. "Excellent. _Move."_

Anthony carefully picked his way through the foliage he could see, the sun now leaving all the green coated in a fiery blaze. A lump developed in his throat as anger and helplessness coursed through him; once again, he was being held against his will for simply _being._ By a member of Loki's crew, no less! Loki swore no harm would come of him, yet here he was being led by knife through an uninhabited portion of Havana towards an ending he couldn't fathom. Perhaps sending that letter to his sister had been too presumptuous. Perhaps he would die now, in the next few minutes or hours, and no one would find him. Not even Loki, with all his secrets and lore of voodoo that Anthony wasn't too sure was actually just a myth, could save him. 

Anthony purposely tripped up to stall, hoping to get Charlie to slip. He never did, the man's grip infallible and his patience too great as he kept Anthony on their slow-moving path. There was a break in the trees and brush, and Anthony risked a glance around him. The sea was stretched out to his right, but still so far that he couldn't make out anything along the shore. He could see _Sleipnir_ in all her dark glory, knowing that Loki was aboard and none the wiser. He wondered if Goldie had figured out what happened, if he had made it to the ship to alert his Captain. Anthony doubted it; it had taken them the better of perhaps twenty minutes to get as far as they had, and it took almost double that to get back to the ship from as far inland and he and Goldie had been. Even if Loki were already ashore, too much time had passed. 

A rough jerk pulled his attention to an abandoned shack encompassed by fat and dark palm leaves. Charlie steered him right to it and didn't stop until they were outside the rotted door. 

"Oi!" Charlie called, and Anthony felt his heart sink as the door swung inward and he was faced with the dirty grinning mugs of Gibbs and Grim. 

"Took ye long 'nuff, Charlie!" Gibbs rumbled, stepping down and grabbing Anthony from Charlie. Anthony resisted until Gibbs punched him in his gut, taking advantage of his lost balance and pushing him at Grim. Anthony tripped over the threshold of the shack and landed hard on his palms and knees. He hissed, feeling splinters and rotting wood break his skin. 

"Was waitin' on Goldie to step away," Charlie answered. "Old man watches him like a hawk." 

"Tha' be 'cos we 'ave the Cap'n's _pride_ 'ere," Grim answered. He squatted down as Anthony tried to push himself up, and grabbed his collar roughly to pull until Anthony was better hidden within the shack. 

"Speaking of," Charlie prompted; Anthony watched his posture shift from the lazy slouch he was accustomed with to a more alert position. "What're you two gonna do? Once the Captain finds out, he'll raise hell, and I'm not gonna stick around for it." 

Gibbs and Grim exchanged a glance before Gibbs shrugged. "Won't matter, Charlie." 

"Why's at?" 

"'Cos we'll 'ave damned redcoat dogs on 'im 'fore dawn." 

Anthony felt his very blood freeze. Gibbs and Grim were _willingly_ betraying Loki? He knew they had their aversions with the pirate captain, but not enough to jeopardize their entire crew, their _livelihood._ Were Loki to be discovered, he would be hung, and all his crew with him. Everyone, Goldie even with his obvious age, and Gibbs and Grim would be totted as heroes for turning in one of the most feared pirates of their time. Anthony worked his throat to try and wet it, to free the lump there and maybe - Gibbs had his back to him and Grim was overly confident as he leaned against the jam of the door that Anthony could dislodge him. He could throw Grim off balance before Gibbs could turn and all he had to do was avoid Charlie and run. He could do it; he could run and get to shore and warn Loki about their betrayal - oh, how Anthony _hated_ that word. Goldie had warned him before, about all the pain Loki had endured because of it, and now it stared Anthony square in the face with three sets of eyes and a knife. 

He could do it. 

He _would_ do it. 

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I was worried you'd say that." 

Anthony held his breath, feeling the air between Gibbs and Grim become uncertain. "Wot?" Grim prompted. 

"Was worried you'd say that," Charlie repeated. He shrugged. "And here I thought _I_ was hard of hearing." 

Then, Anthony realized he didn't have to do anything. Charlie grabbed Gibbs and cracked his skull against his knee, knocking the man out cold. Before Grim could even react, Charlie had his arm around his neck with his oddly intense reflexes and twisted. There was a sickening crack, and Grim fell away lifelessly; Gibbs was still breathing, Anthony noticed, as Charlie turned to him. Perhaps he would pay him the same courtesy as he had Gibbs, and just leave him facedown in a ditch but alive. 

Anthony scrambled to his feet as Charlie grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric tightly. It pressed against his throat and prompted him to gasp. "What're you - " 

"Nothin' personal, lad," Charlie muttered, and Anthony blinked as something akin to pity flittered across Charlie's eyes before he flipped the knife in his hand hilt out and slammed it against Anthony's temple. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise there won't be so much time between updates! :) Please share your thoughts!


	12. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki begins his search for Anthony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Today is a year that since I started this story. Thanks so much for all your support, and I hope you all stick around for more! :)

* * *

Loki Laufey stood on the shore of Havana, his back to the sea and his crew. Behind him were Arthur Penn and Jesse Tenny, each loading the goods Goldie and Anthony had gathered during their time in the markets. The captain had his hands resting on his hips, just above the jut of double pistols tucked in his sash. 

The sun was low behind him, barely a smear over the water, but still throwing beautiful and dark light. Goldie and Anthony were nowhere to be seen. 

"Cap'n!" Loki turned, holding the scarf around his face tighter against a sudden gust of sea air. Arthur Penn waved him over, wiping his face on the edge of his sleeve. Loki stepped back onto sand, his boots sliding. In only a few strides he crossed to Arthur. 

"What can I do for you, Arthur?" Loki asked, careful to keep his tone neutral. 

"We're 'bout done here," he answered. Jesse moved to join the conversation. 

"Aye; jus' waitin' on rum," Jesse added. Loki nodded - he'd noticed that himself. Food and shot and cloth had just been dropped off when he touched shore. Goldie always saved the best for last, so to speak; Loki assumed that was what held them up. 

Still, something didn't quite sit well with him. 

Goldie was never late. 

"Go on with one boat," Loki said. "The two of you, to make loading the pulleys faster. Leave Jesse's, it carries only cloth. I shall wait here for the rest and have it all loaded for your return." 

Arthur shuffled slightly, kicking a small hole in the sand. Loki quirked an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Mr. Penn?" 

"No, sir," he answered immediately, but his tone was sullen. He paused, casting a glance over at Jesse who seemed to be just as nervous. "Permission t' speak, Cap'n?" 

Loki crossed his arms over his chest but nodded. "You may." 

Arthur shared a look with Jesse once more before he looked at Loki. "We jus', well, mayhaps _you_ should go with Jesse and I'll stay 'ere, t' do the loading." 

Loki pressed his lips together thinly, the expression lost behind his scarf. "What are you insinuating, Mr. Penn? That I cannot handle rum or Havana?" 

"Neither, sir, neither," Penn quickly amended. He smacked his lips together and turned to Jesse again. "Jesse, I - " 

"Captain," Jesse began, drawing Loki's attention. "We're just concerned fer ye; last time ye ended a wanted man." Jesse gestured to Loki's disguise, similar to what he'd worn to visit Amora the day before. "Why, look'it yerself! Ye can't even walk down th' street now." 

"We dun' want anyone noticin' ye in a bad way, Cap'n," Arthur added. Loki looked back at him, then Jesse again, before finally sighing. 

"Alright," Loki said, smiling fondly when both of his men perked up with relief. "Stay here, Arthur; Goldie shouldn't be any longer." 

"Aye, Cap'n!" 

Loki helped Jesse push the boat into the sea and took up the other oar as they rowed. Jesse didn't speak, and Loki was content to drift with his thoughts as they floated. He forced himself to remain calm - Goldie was never late without reason. He had to have a good reason, a _damn good reason,_ as far as Loki was concerned. 

Goldie had been Loki's first mate for quite some time; Goldie had seen him at his worse, when he struck out against any ship flying the Union Jack, military or not. Were one to ask, Loki would have no choice but to admit his early wrongdoings, the acts and deeds that landed him the title of Dread, of mankiller, of devil man. It was a dire necessity, to keep his enemies at bay and prevent new ones out of sheer fear. It worked gloriously, and his reputation proceeded him at lengths. 

Jesse grabbed the length of rope dangling over the edge of _Sleipnir_ and tied it around a ring on the harpooning boat. Once the boat was secure, Loki climbed the rope ladder quickly and swung himself on deck. A few of his men cheered, waving from their various positions. It always warmed Loki, to know his rapport with his crew was respectful, cheerful, even. Loki handpicked his crew from every port he went to - aside from Anthony and a few others, he hadn't needed to take on new men in years. 

Loki waved two men over to help load the goods after he swung the pulley over to the edge of his ship. He sent one down to help Jesse and remained aboard to divide and catalogue what was purchased. 

The sun disappeared as they worked, and once everything was aboard, Loki could just see the stars twinkling in the sky. 

"Put these below deck; Goldie and I shall divide it later," Loki said to Albert Jones, a tall man with dark skin and bright eyes. He handed over the parchment he'd been writing on as well. "Put this with it." 

"Aye, Captain!" 

"My thanks," Loki said absently as he swung himself over the railing and joined Jesse once again. He hastily untied the knot from the boat and shoved away from the hull with more force than he intended. If Jesse noticed, he didn't say anything. 

"We must make haste, Jesse," Loki murmured, taking up his side of the oars. "We've lost the light of day." 

Jesse nodded and managed to keep up with Loki's intense rowing. They navigated the crowded waters with ease without the added weight from their previous endeavor. Slowly the shore came into view, and when Loki could only see Arthur, still alone, he couldn't ignore his feelings anymore. 

_"Fuck,"_ Loki hissed. Jesse made a questioning noise. "Goldie has not returned." 

Minutes passed agonizingly slow as Loki and Jesse rowed, the only sounds the water lapping around them and cresting with each stroke. Loki fought to keep his breathing even, his posture relaxed, his mind focused on his task. 

Arthur moved to grab the bow of the boat and helped them hoist it onto the sand. Loki took a steadying breath and readjusted his scarf. 

"Word from Goldie?" He asked; Arthur shook his head. Loki turned away from two of his most trusted crew to stare out into Havana. 

The marketplace was empty, save for a few still haggling or closing. Even in the tepid light of dusk Loki could make out vendors leaving, walking home with their purses hidden. A young girl walked hand in hand with her mother, smiling excitedly up at the older woman. He scanned for the hobbled, stooped posture of his quartermaster and the curious air of his ward, but there was no sight of Goldie or - 

"I'm going to look for them." 

Arthur's hand was on Loki's shoulder instantly. "Cap'n, ye shouldn't - " 

Loki twisted out of Arthur's grasp and stepped into his space; very rarely did Loki purposely intimidate his crew, but his panic was getting the best of him. Of all places for Goldie to not report on time, it had to be Havana. Havana - a place were the militia were trained to look for him; a place where the redcoats wouldn't hesitate shooting him or his crew on sight; a place where he knew spies for HRN were lurking, _waiting_ for him for make a mistake. 

"I _will,"_ Loki hissed. "Should you try and stop me, a week in the hold will be your reward." 

It was a low threat, something Loki regretted; Arthur Penn was his acting first mate, and as much as he loved Goldie, the views of a young sailor were always welcomed. Goldie's age prevented him from acting the full role of his title as quartermaster, but Arthur was a fine stand-in. 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Loki. He was equally as hardheaded as Goldie, as well. "I'll be goin' with ye, Cap'n," Arthur answered. "I still have things t' learn from that old coot." 

Loki relaxed somewhat. "Fine; Jesse, return to the ship with the other provisions. You are in charge until I or Arthur return." 

"Aye, Captain," Jesse said with a salute. He unclasped his cutlass from his side and passed it to Arthur. "Ye have yer pistol?" 

Arthur nodded as he tied the belted cutlass to his hips. "Aye; got any extra shot?" 

After Jesse passed over a pouch of gunpowder and bullets, Loki and Arthur helped push his boat into the sea and turned back to Havana. Arthur cleared his throat beside him. 

"Any idea where t' start?" 

Loki tightened his scarf again, tying it off at the base of his skull. "The pubs; the ones you lads go to." 

Arthur nodded and set off to the right, Loki beside him. 

* * *

They searched five pubs before they found Goldie. The old man was hunched over the bar, flipping a coin between his fingers. Loki felt relief wash over him at seeing the old man well and alive; as they grew closer, however, renewed dread settled over him at seeing that Anthony was nowhere to be seen. 

"Goldie," Loki announced. Goldie flinched but spun around on his stool. 

"Ahoy, Cap'n," he answered. His brows were drawn together in worry, and Loki quickened his pace. Arthur shoved a few drunkards out of his way before they reached Goldie. 

"Are you well?" Loki asked quickly, dropping a hand to Goldie's shoulder. His longtime friend shrugged it off, making Loki frown. 

"Ye shouldn't be 'ere, lad," Goldie murmured, ignoring Loki's question. 

"'S why I am," Arthur answered. He nudged a stool away from the bar to lean casually, keeping his eyes on the crowd behind Loki. Goldie rolled his eyes. 

"Won't do a damn t'ing an' ye _know_ 't," Goldie huffed. Loki swallowed. 

"Goldie, what happened?" Loki prompted. "You're late." 

Goldie's brows deepened with their worry. He avoided Loki's gaze. "'M sorry, lad." 

"Are you well?" Loki pressed again. Goldie nodded after a brief hesitation. "What happened?" _Where is Anthony?_

Goldie swallowed and took one of Loki's hands in both of his knobbed ones. "It's th' boy, lad. 'E's gone." 

Loki felt as if the floor gave way beneath him. Somehow, Goldie's old hands kept him from falling to his knees, kept him grounded. He blinked rapidly - no, _no,_ it was too soon. He'd just found him, just began to build a relationship with him, just began _everything,_ and now Anthony was gone again. 

Loki felt hands guiding him to a stool, realizing that it was Arthur telling him to sit and _breathe,_ dammit. Loki did, squeezing his free hand into a fist. Arthur patted his shoulder before stepping away, hollering out an order for three ales. 

"Tell me," Loki asked, quietly, and Goldie did. 

Goldie explained from the moment they stepped ashore, separating from Charlie and moving into the marketplace. Anthony was amazing - he got himself a shave and a kit, was planning on asking Loki to teach him. Loki couldn't help the coil of regret in his gut - he'd seen the shaving kit amongst the other wares. Now he'd never have a chance. 

They came to the bar they were all sitting in and Goldie told him to wait while he spoke to James. When he came back, hardly minutes later, Anthony was gone. 

"Th' lass workin' said 'e'd jus' drifted off, said 'e'd said 'e'll be right back," Goldie said. He gave a somewhat hopeless shrug. "She's gone, now, an' I've been jus' waitin' fer 'im." 

Loki swallowed. "Why didn't you look for him?" 

Goldie snorted. "Wanted t', lad, I _did,_ but Tony's th' curious type, so's I fig'r'd 'e'd git 'is fill an' come find me." 

"When was that?" Loki asked. 

"Right 'fore sundown." 

Loki shut his eyes against his sudden anger. That was well over an hour ago. "Did she say - " 

_"Captain!"_

Loki turned out of habit, as did several of the other sailors drinking, but it luckily _was_ for him. A blond man was pushing his way through the crowd with obvious effort, his hair and clothes disheveled and a smear of wiped rouge still lingered on his exposed throat. 

"Charlie!" Goldie called, waving the man over. Charlie huffed until he made it to them, leaning against the bar on Goldie's left. "Th' hell ye been, lad?" 

"I was," he paused, catching his breath. Loki narrowed his eyes at him. "I was waitin' by the shore for ya when I saw - when I saw Gibbs with Tony." 

Loki sat up straighter. "When?" 

Charlie looked over Goldie's head at Loki. "'Bout an hour ago. I didn't see ye, Captain, or Goldie, so I set off after 'im. Took Tony by knife into the trees. I saw where they took him to, then came lookin' for Goldie." 

Loki was on his feet, grabbing Charlie by the collar of his thin tunic. He vague heard Arthur sending the drinks he'd ordered off to another table. "Take me there." 

Charlie searched his eyes for a moment, his own hazel ones widened in what Loki could only describe as plain _fear._

"Aye." 

* * *

Charlie lead Loki, Goldie, and Arthur through a jagged path wrought with roots and foliage and tall palms. They all remained silent; Loki walked directly behind Charlie, then Goldie behind him, with Arthur bringing up the rear. Arthur carried a small lantern Goldie borrowed from James, the owner of the bar they'd purchased rum from. The light was enough for Charlie to still lead but just dim enough that it would be difficult to discern where exactly Loki's party was for more than a second. 

After what felt like hours to Loki, Charlie held up a hand and stopped. Loki nodded and did the same; Arthur covered the glass of the lantern with his other hand, plunging them into relative darkness. 

Loki felt a hand on his shoulder; Charlie was pulling him forward to point. "See it?" 

Loki squinted, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness and moonlight. He could see a shack, hidden partially and cleverly by the rotted trees and leaves. Should anyone simply walk by, they would miss it without knowing where to look. 

Loki could make out the shapes of two men sprawled before it and was immediately standing from the crouch he'd taken. 

_"What're you doing?"_ Charlie hissed, scrambling to grab Loki's tunic. Loki shook his grip off and brushed aside the leaves they'd been behind. 

"They are alone," Loki said, his tone normal. The sound of his voice made one of the men roll and groan. Loki walked with purpose to the shack, and behind him he heard the other three step into the clearing as well. Loki moved around the prone form of Gibbs, the man groaning, to peer into the tiny building. It was empty, save for a few sacks of what Loki believed to just be supplies. He turned and nudged Grim with the toe of his boot; when there was no reaction, he kneeled to check the man's pulse. As he pressed his fingers beneath Grim's jaw he noticed the odd angle his neck posed; Loki sighed and stood. 

"Paul is dead and there is no sign of Anthony," Loki said to Goldie, now standing only a few feet from him. Goldie looked up with wide eyes. 

"Wot th' _hell_ 'appened?" Goldie wondered as he glanced between the two men in confused awe. Loki motioned Arthur forward with his lantern before turning to Gibbs. 

"Let us find out." 

Loki stood astride Gibbs' waist to crouch and reach down to grab the man by his collar. "Time to wake, Jonathan." 

When all the man did was groan again, Loki gave him a rough shake until his eyes snapped open. Jonathan Gibbs blinked slowly, his eyes obviously struggling to adjust. Loki waved Arthur closer. "Jonathan." 

Gibbs let his head sag back. "Cap'n?" 

"Aye, Jonathan. What have you been up to tonight?" Loki asked carefully. 

"Dunno wh' yer 'alkin' 'bout," Jonathan drawled, speech slurred even more with his groggy state. Loki exhaled through his nose. 

"Charlie saw you, Jonathan," Loki continued. Gibbs' head snapped forward at the mention of Charlie. "Where is he, Mr. Gibbs?" 

"'At piece o' right _shite_ framed us, Cap'n, 'e's a goddamned _liar!"_ Gibbs announced, turning until he could see Charlie. "Wotev'r 'e's said, it's all shite, Cap'n; dun' listen 't it, 'e's - " 

"Right now Charlie is in my good graces," Loki cooly interrupted. Gibbs blinked rapidly, looking from his captain to Charlie. "He has lead me to find you in a very compromising position that I suggest you have an explanation for." 

"I heard talk of mutiny, Captain," Charlie added, voice soft. Gibbs grew still. "From the both of them." 

Loki didn't look away from Gibbs. "Is that true, sailor?" 

Gibbs openly gaped at Loki. Arthur and Goldie shared a look before Goldie spoke carefully: "Be in yer best interest t' speak." 

"Do you wish to defend yourself?" Loki asked. Gibbs just continued to look between Charlie and Loki, his eyes wide with obvious fear. Arthur cleared his throat. 

"Are there others?" Arthur asked. Gibbs, for all his grace upon the sea, or rather, lack there of, sat with his eyes bugging roughly from his skull and his mouth still dropped open like a fish. Arthur wanted to sigh but held his tongue. 

Loki felt his anger bubbling again with Gibbs' unwillingness to offer up any information. The more time he spent speaking to him about finding Anthony, about what had become of the genius in a world he knew little about, the less the odds became of actually _finding_ him and protecting him. The thoughts began to spiral out of control, jumping from death to falling off a cliff to wandering off into Havana's lush greenery to never be found again. Logically, Loki knew that if Anthony was dead he would know; he would have _felt it,_ but that didn't stop his emotions from getting the best of him. 

"I give you one more chance before you force my hand," Loki said calmly. He saw Goldie shuffle, saw his oldest friend move to watch his face. Loki remained impassive and stared directly at Gibbs. "Now or never." 

Gibbs' weathered face ran through a myriad of emotions as Loki held on. Fear was the most obvious, then perhaps anger, but, surprisingly, regret. Gibbs heaved a terrible sigh and sagged more against Loki's grip. 

"T'was us," Gibbs said. "Jus' me an' Grim. Din't like 'ow Tony was bein' favoured." 

"That was enough for _mutiny_ for you, Jonathan? Despite my taking you in when you had nothing, giving you food and shelter and _honest work_ when you scarce had the boots on your bloodied _feet?_ He is enough to turn your back on me?" Loki wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He could remember finding Gibbs in a ditch in Nassau, covered in shit and filth. He reeked of more than just ale and shit; he reeked of failure, of a man who had nothing, just to have even _that_ taken away from him, too. It was downright shameful. Loki pushed him into the sea before drafting up a contract and a hot meal. 

"Aye," Jonathan answered. His eyes dropped from Loki's face to what he could see of Loki's hand fisted in his shirt. Loki squeezed tighter. "T'was no 'onest work t' be 'ad, wot wif us always sailin' t' find _him."_

"Perhaps the lack of murder turned your loyalties, not he," Loki murmured. Gibbs grinned, his teeth still as nasty as Loki remembered. 

"Mayhaps yers, as well, Cap'n," he shot back. Loki took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. This was getting him nowhere. 

"Gibbs, before you make this harder on yourself, you should think about the best way to save your skin. Where is he?" 

Gibbs had the audacity to laugh in Loki's face. "Dunno, Cap'n." 

"I do not have time for your foolish games," Loki hissed. He leaned closer to Gibbs, his own face now only a few inches from the other man, and snatched down his scarf. "You _will_ tell me where he is." 

Gibbs just continued to grin. "'E took off, I s'pose. Dunno." 

Loki knew Arthur and Goldie incredibly well, and he knew of all his crew, they would be the least to judge his actions. Charlie was relatively green, and the fear Loki saw in his eyes at the pub was nothing to be concerned with; perhaps, until Loki knew him better, playing on that fear could help. 

Loki inhaled just once before drawing his pistol in his left hand and pressing the barrel to Gibbs' chin. "Where is he, Mr. Gibbs?" 

Loki felt how tense Gibbs grew, felt how ever fibre of his being froze. 

"Cap'n, 'onestly, I - " 

"'Honestly', Mr. Gibbs? If we are being _honest_ here, I do not give a _fuck_ about what you have to say for yourself, but you _will_ tell me what you have done with Anthony." 

Gibbs eyes shone wide with fear in the lamplight, tracking the movement of Loki's pistol from his chin to his temple. Loki made sure to trail the cool metal along the side of Gibbs' face in a candid mimic of a lover's stroke, even as he pulled back the hammer. 

"You have been found guilty of mutiny, spurred by what I believe is simple jealousy," Loki said. He rested the pistol against Gibbs' forehead, watching the man cross his eyes to keep the weapon within his sight. "The penalty, by which, is death." He paused and tilted his head. "But for you, Jonathan, I will make an exception. Should you tell me what has become of - " _MY_ " - Anthony, you may live to see a beautiful Caribbean sunrise." 

"Cap'n," Gibbs sobbed, his eyes squeezing shut. "I _dunno!"_

"Not good enough, man," Loki hedged. He watched Gibbs' throat work to swallow. Loki felt his patience snap. 

"Answer the question and you live," he hissed with bared teeth, giving Gibbs a shake until his eyes were open. "Answer it." 

"D-Dunno, sir!" 

_"Answer_ it." 

"Sir, I - " 

" _Answer me."_

"I dun - " 

_"ANSWER ME."_

"Cap'n Laufey! I dun - " 

Gibbs' forehead exploded with a loud _crack,_ a gaping hole of bone and blood and brains beneath the barrel of Loki's pistol. Behind him sprayed hair and gore in a wide arc to the left of Arthur; some sprinkled on the lantern's glass; some dusted Loki's pale face in back spray. He dropped Gibbs' limp form without grace, stepping over the man as he carefully untied his scarf to clean his face then his pistol. As he wiped, he eyed each of the three men before him. 

Charlie kept his eyes on Gibbs, wide and somewhat unseeing, as if he'd never seen anyone get their head blown apart. Loki knew for certain that that was not the case. Arthur had a hand on the back of his neck, lightly shaking his head, as he slowly turned the light of the lantern away from the gore. Goldie, however, was staring right back at Loki. 

"Cudn'ta 'eard 'im out?" Goldie asked without heat; his tone was wrought more by regret. Loki just shrugged and put his pistol away. 

"And listen to another hour of begging? Certainly not," Loki answered. "He was honest - he did not know of Anthony's whereabouts. He did, however, attempt to kill me, sail away with my ship, and abandon or murder the lot of you. His ideas of grandeur would have killed him sooner or later; at least now, he may dream happy." 

"Wot 'bout Tony?" Goldie continued. "We be no closer t' findin' him." 

"We start at sunrise," Loki said. "Jesse, Arthur and I will - " 

"Oi, _no,_ Cap'n," Arthur intercepted. His voice never wavered, even with the sight of his comrade dead before him. Loki always enjoyed Arthur's levelness. "Ye stay on th' ship." 

Loki turned his gaze to him. "I _will_ be with you; I know people here who owe me debts. I intend to use them. There will be no dispute on this." 

Arthur seemed like he wanted to say something more, but shook his head and turned back the way they'd came. "Better git some rest, then. Got a long day ahead." 

Loki strode to meet him and lead the way, tucking his soiled scarf into the waist of his sash. Goldie sighed but turned to join his Captain and first mate. He hobbled a few feet when he noticed that Charlie wasn't beside him. He turned to see the blond man standing, staring down at Gibbs' unmoving form. 

"Come along, lad," Goldie whispered. Charlie jolted, turning wide eyes to Goldie. "Best git on, now." 

Charlie looked back once more at Gibbs before he nodded and met with Goldie. He walked quietly behind Loki and Arthur, head down and hands shoved in his trouser pockets, and Goldie couldn't help but pity him. It was hard to be reminded of what Loki was - a ruthless pirate captain - even for _him;_ he couldn't imagine what must be running through Charlie's head. Goldie knew Charlie had done his fair share of killing since joining with Loki, but he also knew that he'd never seen Loki in action. It was discerning. 

For Goldie, with decades of service and companionship under his belt, couldn't ever shake the feeling of _wrongness_ whenever he saw Loki kill. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, dayum. Loki don't play, huh? ;) What'd you guys think??


End file.
